


Temper, Temper... (or, Mead Between the Lies)

by Miriam_Heddy



Series: Lessons in Battle [6]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4620417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miriam_Heddy/pseuds/Miriam_Heddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, but it would make a good story, I think. It's very dramatic. The God of War picks a man, just an ordinary mortal. No one in particular, right?"</p><p>This story follows "Dark Dreams."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temper, Temper... (or, Mead Between the Lies)

      **"S** o Joxer. Where have you been?" 

Great. He wasn't back on the road with the ladies for five minutes and already he had to lie to them. Well, to Gabrielle, anyway. Xena was, as usual, walking way ahead of them. She hadn't even bothered to say hello when he caught up with them again, which he thought was kind of rude, given that he'd been gone for almost one month. 

It was hard to imagine why Xena was so grumpy. The sun was shining overhead, the air smelled like rain, and the dew from last night was keeping the dust on the road from clouding around them as they walked. Joxer kicked a large pebble off to the side of the road just in time to avoid tripping over it and decided that it was a good day, even if Xena couldn't appreciate it. He turned back to Gabby, thankful that she, at least, seemed to be in a good mood. "So...Didja miss me?" 

"Well...it's been quiet without you. So where'd you go?" 

Gabby obviously did miss him. She was shaking her head with that half-smile. She didn't have to say it. He could tell. It must be pretty boring travelling with just Xena. 

"Oh, I've been...around. You know. Here and there. Can't tell you, exactly. Well, because, you know..." 

Gabby just sighed and rolled her eyes. "And *why* can't you tell me?" 

"Oh. Um. Because. It's a secret. Besides, you wouldn't find it interesting." He sighed, dramatically, and waited for Gabby to insist he tell her. But she had already turned to watch a bird fly overhead and it was starting to look like she wasn't going to take the hint. Ah well. Sometime after leaving Ares, he'd decided that if someone asked a direct question about Ares, he'd tell the truth. It was probably not what Ares had in mind, but since it seemed really unlikely that Gabrielle would ask him if he was sleeping with a God, it seemed like a safe policy. They walked along in silence for a few more minutes and Joxer noticed Gabrielle was now looking ahead, watching Xena. Before Gabby could speed up and join her, he remembered that he *did* have something interesting to tell her. "Oh. I heard a good story. You wanna hear it?" 

"Sure." 

So he told her the story of the Gods' Tears. Just the first part. She took out her scroll and scribbled notes while he talked. He didn't tell it quite as well as Ares had. There was something about the God's voice... He told himself not to think about that. At least not now. Later, when they were camped under the stars, he could think about it. In detail. And maybe if he thought about it enough, Ares would stop whatever War he was tending and come visit him and tell him another story. Or maybe they could play a game. He was pretty sure he knew the rules now. Well enough to suggest some changes, anyway. Like next time, Ares would be tied to the bed. If he agreed, of course. Just thinking about it made him wish he could have just stayed at the Temple this time. But Ares had told him to go and he'd sounded pretty irritated. The last thing Joxer wanted was to wear out his welcome. When Ares wanted him again, and he was almost sure it was a when and not an if, Joxer would come back to the Temple. Or maybe Ares would visit him on the road. Either way. 

His mind was so pleasantly occupied with the memory of Ares' body pressed against his own that he almost forgot he was still here, on the road, walking with Gabrielle. But then she spoke again, her voice sounding a little breathless from writing while walking fast enough to keep up with Xena. "So, where'd you hear that? I haven't heard that variation before." 

"Oh...from someone who's been around a while. It's a very old story." He tried not to sound like he was trying to sound too mysterious. But he really, really did want to tell her. 

"Well, if you run into this mysterious bard of yours, see if you can get some more stories. I'm running out of ones that Xena hasn't heard." 

"Sure. Okay." He somehow doubted that Ares would want to tell him stories to entertain Xena, but then Ares didn't really have to know where his stories ended up. Of course, Joxer wasn't sure that Ares wouldn't just find out by reading his mind. Could you keep a secret from a God? 

The conversation lagged again and he was almost ready to give up and just let Gabrielle walk ahead with Xena. He'd always been comfortable being alone. Well, he hadn't had much of a choice before. But now he actually found that he wanted some company. He tried again, hoping that Gabrielle would stay if he got her to tell him a story. "Um, so I hear you and Xena stopped the War in Carthage." He was kind of sorry that he missed that. The gossip at the last town said it was a good battle. 

"Yeah." Gabrielle's face lit up as it always did when she started to tell a Xena story. "When we stop for lunch I'll read you my scroll about it. The Princess of Carthage gave me a reward for valor. It's really pretty." She reached into Argo's saddlebag and pulled out a coin threaded onto a gold ribbon. It *was* pretty. He complimented her on it. Nobody had ever given him a medal for anything. Not even a little one. 

"So did Xena get anything?" 

"Oh, you know Xena. She just kind of glared at the Princess until she backed off. I don't know why, but Xena doesn't take well to getting presents." 

He gave a little "Hmph" to indicate what he thought of people who turned down medals, but then decided that maybe it was a good thing that Xena turned it down, since Gabby's medal had "Pax" engraved on it with a little bird holding an olive branch. Ares wouldn't really approve of Xena receiving a medal for stopping a War, so he decided that he didn't really approve either. 

Thinking about Ares' disapproval distracted him so that he had to ask Gabby to repeat the last thing she said. 

"I *said* that the medal wasn't the best part..." 

Her voice trailed off, and he knew she was waiting for him to say, "And what was the best part" but he was still a little miffed about the whole Pax thing, so he crossed his arms and tried to look impatient. 

"Okay. So the best part was when the King's religious advisor stood up at the ceremony and set fire to the castle's altar to Ares." 

"He what?!" 

"He set fire--Joxer, hey. Are you okay?" 

How could anyone set fire to Ares' altar? That was sacrilege. It was horrible. It *was* Ares, for God's sake. The image of the fiery altar made him queasy, and he remembered the way Ares had looked with a knife blade sticking into his clenched palm. "Fine. Yeah. I'm... fine. Okay." 

"Well, you look a little green. Should I ask Xena to stop for a bit?" 

He took several deep breaths and told himself that Ares might not even care very much about a little altar. It wasn't like he didn't have other ones. But still... "No. It's okay. I just felt a little funny for a minute. It's hot out." 

"Yeah. It is. Are you sure...? Hey, maybe you should take off your shirt. It's, um, new, isn't it?" 

Just as suddenly, the ugly image of the burning altar was replaced by another ugly image. He'd almost forgotten about it, that other black shirt, the one he'd bought after leaving Ares, the one he'd bought so he would look like a real Warrior, finally, when he went to Carthage to fight for Ares. Ares had cleaned the blood out of it when he'd brought him back, but somehow, days later, Joxer had been convinced that he could still smell the blood and death in the leather, and so he had finally buried it just outside of Ares' Temple. It was a stupid thing to do, since he probably could've gotten something for it at market. But he didn't want to sell it and he just couldn't bring himself to wear it, not once he started to think about it like that. He shuddered, remembering it, not just the blood, but how it had felt, slicing his blade into another man's skin. Waking up and suddenly remembering how it felt to bleed to death. It would have been like wearing a dead man's clothes. 

The shirt was still there, outside of the Temple, not buried very deep because he didn't have anything to dig the hole with and he couldn't ask Ares for a shovel. And Ares had seen him come back to the Temple with the new shirt and so he knew that Ares must have known about it, but he hadn't commented on it, for which Joxer was grateful. He didn't know what he would have said to try to explain. He wasn't even really angry with Hades. It was good to know what Ares had done, because now he knew for sure how Ares felt and that Ares wouldn't let him die. Somehow, the blood of the men he'd almost killed that day, and his own blood, had soaked through, maybe all the way to his skin, and getting rid of the shirt just made him realize that he couldn't get rid of it. It was like a stain on him that he didn't like to think about, and he couldn't seem to wash off. 

He shook his head, remembering that Gabby had asked a question, and he put a smile on his face. "Yeah. I decided it was time to update my image. D'ya like it?" He tugged on the hem of it, pleased that it didn't rattle like the old armored one did, but wishing, for just a second, that he could somehow erase everything, go back to his old self and the old clothes. 

The new shirt fit tighter than the one he'd replaced. A little too tight, actually. There wasn't room for an undershirt beneath this one, so the leather chafed at his skin, especially around his nipples, and he instantly regretted tugging at it. Now he was too hot and his nipples were erect, which just made the whole thing worse, and he hoped he wasn't blushing, or, if he was, Gabby would think it was the heat. 

He also kind of missed wearing his old armor, even though he knew that it never did much good. He felt strangely vulnerable now, knowing how it felt to have a sword cut into him, walking outside without a chest plate, but he kept reminding himself that the only other time he'd ever gotten hit in the chest was when he was testing out his sword in some mock battle maneuvers in front of a mirror and tripped and fell down on it. The plate had worked pretty well, and it had even gotten a nice dent in it that made him look a little battle-worn, although his chest had ached for a whole week after that. Now, he didn't even have his hat, because the man at the shop where he had bought the new shirt had convinced him that the hat didn't really match. The guy had seemed pretty adamant about it, but Joxer wasn't so sure. And the salesman hadn't had any black hats, so now his head was bare and the sun was so hot overhead that his hair was spiky with sweat and he kept having to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. 

Gabby cleared her throat and he looked over at her. Maybe she didn't like it. It didn't really matter if she did, anyway. He hadn't gotten it for her. He noticed that Gabby wasn't sweating at all, but she still wiped her hand across her forehead as she spoke. "Its, ah, better than the other one. But black leather's pretty hot, um, I mean black absorbs sunlight." 

"Oh, it *does* not." How could a color absorb the sunlight? He thought about it, then decided she must mean that the leather absorbed the sunlight. But that didn't make much more sense, since it was obviously not getting any darker out now, and, if it was, wouldn't that mean that a whole army of Warriors in black leather would have to fight in the dark, and how could they do that without killing themselves? 

"Sure it does. See. Put your hand on your sleeve, then put it here." 

He hesitated, then reached out and put his hand on her skirt, right by her hip. He could see what she meant now. But it still didn't make sense. If black leather was always hotter, why did so many Warriors wear it? Oh, yeah. The tan fabric was definitely cooler than his own shirt. He could feel the heat of her skin through it. Her hip shifted as she walked. So soft. Oh, this was a bad experiment. He was even hotter now. Maybe he would faint and Ares would come with some water. 

The soft hip slid away from his hand. Gods, he was dizzy. 

"Hey, Xena. Wait up." 

He called out to stop her, to say that it was nothing, but Gabby was already pulling on Xena's arm, asking her to stop for an early lunch. Joxer could hear the mumbled conversation and could tell Xena wasn't happy. But finally Xena nodded and Joxer looked for a clearing and sat down on the nearest log to wait for Gabrielle to get back and start a fire. But the log was uncomfortable, and the sun was getting hotter overhead, so he finally gave up and tugged off the leather shirt, wincing as it stuck to his back. Then he unrolled the small blanket so he could lie on the sand. Maybe he'd feel better after a short nap. It's not like they needed him to make lunch. Nah. He'd just get in the way... 

* * *

"Joxer, wake up." 

He ignored the voice in his dream. 

"Joxer, I said, open your eyes. I know you can hear me." The commanding voice was followed by a boot pressing into his leg, jostling him. 

He opened his eyes, but all he could make out was a giant silhouette shaped like a man and edged with golden light. Then the silhouette moved and he could see that it was just Ares, blocking the sun. Just Ares. When had he stopped being surprised at Ares' presence? "Hey, in case you didn't notice, I was taking a nap. Where's Gabrielle and Xena?" 

"I gave them something to do." 

"Ares..." Something to do could mean anything, and, from the smile on Ares' face, it was probably not a nice something. 

"Lighten up, Joxer. I'm not going to hurt them." 

Joxer had good reason to doubt that Ares was the best judge of when things hurt. 

"Okay, maybe a little bit. But trust me, Xena enjoys my games." 

Sure she does. He didn't argue. Ares knew what he thought about the games Ares played. Some of them were absolutely mean. But some of them were kind of...fun. 

"Joxer, I didn't come here for that." 

"Are you sure?" 

"You, my little mortal, are insatiable." 

"Am I?" He had to squint to see Ares and sat up so the sun wasn't right in his eyes. 

Ares sat down on the ground beside him and ran one hand over Joxer's arm. His touch made Joxer shiver. Ares' hand was pleasantly cool, like he'd been touching ice first. 

"Insatiable? Not really. Now I once knew a nymph in Gaul. *She* was insatiable..." Ares got a dark, far-away look and Joxer felt a small spike of jealousy. 

"I didn't mean *that*. I meant--the other thing you said." 

"What other thing?" Ares was so close now that he was whispering in Joxer's ear. 

Joxer could smell him now, sweat and the strong scent of freshly tanned leather. He let his hand drift up and trace down the firm muscle of Ares' arm. He had perfect arms, the kind of arms that made you feel safe and in danger at the same time. "Your little mortal. Is that what I am?" 

"Hmm. Well...I suppose you're not *that* little, compared to other mortals. Certainly not *there*." Ares' hand had followed a path over Joxer's bare chest and settled over his cock possessively, the God's strong fingers cupping him in a less-than-gentle grip. 

Joxer found himself pressing up into that touch, then willed himself not to be distracted from the point. "Hey, I thought you said you didn't come for that." 

"It's a God's prerogative to change his mind." 

"Ares. Wait. That's not what I meant." 

Ares got a puzzled look but didn't stop moving his fingers in lazy patterns outlining Joxer's cock. Joxer found it was getting hard to think, so he tried to focus on the problem at hand. But the hand that was attached to the problem was doing some very distracting things. Ares could recite the alphabet and sound seductive, so it was almost impossible to ignore the low whisper in his ear describing actions and positions that made him blush. 

"...mortal?" 

"Yes?" 

"I wasn't *addressing* you, Joxer. I was asking. Is that what you meant?" 

"Meant?" What had he meant? What were they talking about? 

"I don't *know*, mortal. If I *knew* what you wanted to talk about, I wouldn't *ask*, now would I?" 

"No. I mean, yes. Ah. Oh. Stop that. I can't--" Ares removed his hand. Mortal. That was it. It had been bothering him for a while now. Mortal seemed to be like some sort of pet name and Joxer was actually getting kind of tired of it. Nobody wanted to be reminded, constantly, that they were going to die someday. Especially when the God saying it had all the control over when it would happen. Especially when you were sleeping with the God who had all the control. It was actually kind of creepy when he thought about it. He shook his head, trying *not* to think about it, especially now, when he wanted to think about other things. "Yeah. I thought--I guess I must've misunderstood." 

"Misunderstood what?" 

"The story. The Gods', um, Tears. I...." He stopped talking because he suddenly realized how stupid he sounded. The poison...the mortal drank it, and so he should have been dead at the end. And Ares did say, didn't he? "That's the moral. He *lived*." So didn't that mean...he thought it did. He'd been sure it meant...but maybe not. Maybe that's not what Ares had meant at all. Stupid, stupid. He knew he wasn't any good at figuring out what stories meant. Sometimes, he even laughed in the wrong places, and Gabby would give him a strange look, like she didn't mean for it to be funny. So now he'd gotten it all wrong again. Stupid. 

Ares closed his eyes and Joxer knew, just from his expression, that the God was in his head. He always thought he might feel something when it happened, but so far he never had. When Ares opened them again, his eyes were even darker and lines marred his forehead. Ares had a thousand dark looks, and Joxer hadn't yet figured out how to tell them all apart. But he was working on it. This, he decided, was the "I'm ready to kill someone but I can't" look. The one Ares got when he talked about the other Gods. 

Joxer searched for a good apology, a difficult thing when he wasn't sure yet exactly what he'd done wrong. "Sorry. I shouldn't have expected..." 

"It's okay." 

"No it's not. I mean, I don't need...*that*. I--" 

"Joxer--" 

"No, really. It's enough that you l--love me." He whispered the last, afraid suddenly to look at Ares when he knew that Ares didn't like the word and didn't like to hear it. But he looked anyway, and Ares' expression hadn't darkened any, and the ground wasn't shaking, so maybe it was okay to say it, just this once. 

"Joxer, just shut up a second." 

Joxer shut his mouth, already open to say something more, he still wasn't sure what. He waited, but Ares didn't say anything. So he waited some more. Finally, when the silence started to make him nervous again, he opened his mouth, but was cut off by Ares before he could get a word out and maybe apologize for saying the l-word. 

"Look, mortal. These...things...take time." Ares sounded angry, but he looked almost, well, uncomfortable about it, and Joxer started to wish he'd never said anything about it. 

So it would take time. But time was the problem, wasn't it? Ares might have all the time in the world, but Joxer could feel it slipping away; each second that went by he was closer to losing everything. Losing Ares. "So you, um *did* mean...one day?" He couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. It was still too strange a thought, still seeming like a fantasy or a dream. 

"I don't say things I don't mean." 

That didn't make him feel much better, really. Ares had called him a fool and wished him dead more than once. Joxer could feel himself blushing, but knew that he needed to know, even if it made Ares angry. "So...um." He chewed on his lower lip, thinking about it, but he couldn't figure it out. "So, um, how come? Can't you just, you know, snap your fingers and..." Ares was glaring at him now so he tried again, wondering if it was worth trying to say with words what he didn't understand when Ares could just read his mind so easily. "I thought Gods could just do whatever they wanted. That's what you're always saying. 'I'm a God, you're a mortal.'" 

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently. Ares scowled and didn't answer except to run one hand through his dark curls, tipping his head back to look at the sky as if there were some answers there. Joxer realized that *he* usually looked to the sky when he was thinking about the Gods, even though he still wasn't sure if that was where Mount Olympus was. He tended to imagine it as a mountain of clouds and not earth, as someplace high in the heavens surrounded by stars and darkness. It had been a very recent fantasy of his to imagine that one day Ares might take him to Olympus, but he knew that only immortals were allowed there. 

He pulled away from Ares. It wasn't a surprise, not really. Ares did things in the heat of the moment. Everyone knew that. And what the Gods gave they could just as easily take away. Well, it had been a nice fantasy, while it lasted. He was just glad he hadn't gotten around to testing it. 

Lately, he'd noticed that he felt strong around Ares, not just physically, but that too. Which was weird, because being around strong people usually made him feel weak. But Ares was different. He'd even wondered if maybe some of Ares was rubbing off on him. They were certainly as close as two people could be and not actually trade skin. Of course, Ares wasn't people. And the skin maybe wasn't skin. But that was the point, actually. If it was rubbing off, that would mean it wasn't just a feeling. Maybe he *was* stronger now. He had certainly been able to fight those men on the battlefield. And he was pretty sure he'd never have been able to do that before meeting Ares. But now it looked like he was wrong about all that. And he'd just been thinking about whether he could still hurt himself, if, say, he got into a fight with a monster or a Warlord, or, if he fell down a trapper's ditch, which tended to happen more often than meeting up with monsters and Warlords. He'd better be more careful then. 

Ares was staring at him, his eyes clouded, but Joxer wasn't sure if he was angry or sad, or just thinking about something else, a War maybe. Joxer wanted to say something, but he didn't know what to say. It was kind of embarrassing. He couldn't even believe that he'd really been thinking like this. Practically expecting to eventually become the immortal lover of the God of War. As if Ares would keep him around that long. Of course, he'd scoffed at the idea at first, but it had persisted until he decided it really was something he wanted. Not because he was afraid of dying. He was, a little. Leaving everything, Xena, Gabrielle, just... everything. That would be terrible, no matter how nice it was on the other side. Heck, he wasn't even sure he would make it to the Elysian Fields. He still wasn't sure if only heroes got in, or good people in general, but he knew he wasn't a hero. Not yet, anyway. And sleeping with Ares might be enough to make him a bad person, depending on who was doing the judging. If it was Hades, well...he was definitely *not* getting a break. But even if he ended up in Tartarus, that didn't scare him. It was the idea of leaving Ares that bothered him most. And he knew that was a silly reason to want to live forever. Even if he only lived a normal mortal lifespan, Ares would probably only be a part of that life for a fraction of that time before the God found someone new. The Gods were not known for long-term commitments. So even if Ares wanted him, even if he loved him, Ares was still a God, and the Gods were fickle. 

Well, to be fair, mortals were pretty fickle too. But Joxer knew that he would love Ares for the rest of his life. Living forever just meant he could love Ares as long as Ares lived. But Ares probably didn't want him around to remind him of this time when Ares had once loved a mortal. It would be easier to have this way out, this limit in place. 

If he was mortal, he could die someday. Maybe soon. Or maybe it would take years and he'd be an old man when it happened, long since forgotten by a God who'd moved on to other conquests. Ares had kept him from death once. Would he do it again, for old-time's sake? Or would the God let him die a natural death? Joxer shook his head. What did nature mean to the Gods who could move the Heavens and the Earth? Joxer tried, but couldn't wrap his head around the problem. Who could tell what the Gods thought? He wished, for a moment, that he could read Ares' mind. It would be so much easier. 

Ares frowned at him and spoke in a low, thick voice that was almost a growl. "I haven't changed my mind, mortal. It's just--complicated." 

"Oh." Of course. Why did he keep forgetting? He was just a mortal, and not even a philosopher. There were priests who spent their whole lives trying to understand the ways of the Gods. Of course he couldn't hope to understand his God when he could barely figure himself out. 

"It's not about philosophy, Joxer. It's--" 

"Complicated. You said that already. Look, just--don't worry about it. Not that you are worried about it. I mean--I get the picture." 

"You *don't* get the picture. You don't even know where to look. And arguing about this is *really* chipping away at my good mood, here." 

That odd sound left Ares' voice and the growl was clear and menacing. Joxer stood his ground, finding that the sound turned him on more than it scared him. 

"The God of War *has* good moods?" 

Ares smiled slightly. "You know I do." 

Joxer relaxed his body, the aborted fight instinct leaving his limbs a little shaky. Sometimes he just forgot who he was talking to. Even if it did make him hot, the last thing he wanted to do was make Ares angry over this. It was no big deal. He wasn't going to whine about being mortal. Most people were mortal. Gabrielle was, and so was Xena, probably. Well, maybe not Xena. He went back and forth on that one. 

Joxer reached up and rested one hand on Ares' arm, tracing the outline of biceps and the fine black hair covering the God's forearm, not sure yet if his touch was meant to reassure or arouse. "What can I do to make it better?" 

"Nothing, Joxer." 

"Oh." It had been a stupid question. What did he think he could do? He was just a mortal. He didn't even know what was involved. 

"I'm powerful but this kind of thing has to get past a sort of... committee." 

"A committee?" Joxer had an image of a bunch of Gods sitting around a large table pouring out mead and shuffling scrolls around the room. He had to admit, the idea of Ares sitting still long enough to take a vote on something without someone ending up with mead dumped over their head was pretty hard to imagine. 

Ares tipped his head back and laughed. "Well, it's not quite like that, but close. It's more of a *family* thing." Ares said family like it was a curse and his smile faded. Joxer found himself sympathizing. Families were hard to please. And it must be almost impossible when your father was Zeus. 

"Wait! When Callisto found the apples--" 

Ares shrugged. "She didn't *find* them. She *stole* them from the Gods." 

Joxer brightened. "Well, *I* could steal them." 

"Joxer, if you were really going to steal from the Gods, would it make very much sense to tell *me* about it first?" 

Joxer thought about it and shook his head. No. Telling Ares first would just put him in an awkward position. 

Ares continued, his next words casting a dark cloud over the idea. "Besides, that kind of bold move takes a freak-show like a Callisto or a Velasca." 

"But not a Joxer." Ares was right. He wasn't even sure where to find the apple tree or ambrosia. He'd actually heard about how Callisto had gotten the apple and it sounded like something he'd kill himself doing. It was ironic, when you thought about it like that. Killing yourself trying to become immortal. 

Ares reached out and cupped Joxer's chin in one cool hand, tipping it up and staring into his eyes. "No. Definitely not a Joxer." 

"So I can't--" 

"You can. There are other ways. But there are rules, traditions..." 

"I don't get it. So what's the problem?" 

Ares looked uncomfortable, tightening his grip on Joxer's chin. "The problem is that you haven't exactly convinced the Gods that it's in our interest to keep you around for all eternity." 

Joxer noticed that Ares said "our interest" and wondered if that was Ares' way of saying that he wasn't convinced either. "So no one wants me. That what you're saying. But--I mean, look, you can tell them. I won't get in the way. I'm pretty easy to ignore. Ask Xena." 

"Wrong, mortal. If you were easy to ignore, I *would* have ignored you." 

Joxer winced at the words, but told himself that it *could* be a compliment. Maybe. But he didn't have the energy to convince himself of that, as Ares began to trace his mouth with one callused thumb, pressing down on Joxer's lower lip and forcing his mouth open. Joxer didn't resist, darting his tongue out to taste him, drawing him in. Ares seemed not to notice that he was doing this, continuing to seduce him as they talked and Joxer found himself divided, wanting to just forget about death and let Ares seduce him. He really did want to be seduced, to think only about Ares and the present, the taste of him and the promise of his rough touch. 

"I want you." Ares' voice was rough and deep, but Joxer knew he hadn't been convinced yet. His body was more than willing, but his mind was still occupied with the thought that the Gods didn't want him. What did it matter? What kind of person wanted everyone to like him, anyway? It was impossible. Hardly any mortals actually *liked* him. Why should the Gods be any different? 

Joxer bit down on the finger in his mouth and Ares drew his hand away, looking startled. 

"So nobody likes me?" 

"Wha-- Are we still on this?" 

Joxer nodded, trying not to look too desperate. 

"I guess Aphrodite thinks you're... not too big a nuisance. For a mortal." 

"She does?" That made him happy. Aphrodite *should* like him. She was supposed to encourage true romance, wasn't she? 

Ares made a face and snorted. Joxer tried not to smile at the sudden image of Ares breathing fire like a dragon. 

"Don't get cocky. 'Dite's clueless and she's not going to convince anyone else. She just thinks you're *cute*." 

Wow. Cute! The Goddess of Love thought he was cute! She was really, really beautiful. The way her breasts rose out of that pink thing she wore that you could sort of see through, but that hid the important parts. What would it be like to pull that veil off her and actually touch her..."She does? Really? How cute? Cute enough to--" 

"Joxer, if you even *think* about it, I'll--" The dragon was going to blow, any minute, and Joxer's smile grew too broad to contain. 

"You'll what? Kill me? I *don't* think so." He was feeling better, now. Ready to be seduced, or to seduce Ares. Whatever. He stretched out on the sand, reminded of how good it was to be alive and mortal. Without his shirt on the sun was actually pleasantly warm. "How about you? Do *you* think I'm cute?" 

"Joxer, just because you caught me in a weak moment--" 

The ground was starting to shake again under them both, but Ares didn't even seem to notice. It just accompanied him the way a dragon's fire just came out when he exhaled. And Joxer found that he was getting used to the God's little outbursts. 

"Temper, temper... " 

"Don't mock the God of War, or the next time you walk into something, I'll let you bleed." 

"To death?" 

"No. You know I won't." Ares sighed and the ground stopped moving. 

"But what if I walk into something, um, like somebody's sword, when you're not around? Are you going to travel with me and Xena and Gabby? Or do I have to stay with you all the time, so you can protect me from the big, bad bullies?" He knew he sounded a little whiny, but he didn't really like the idea of Ares playing bodyguard. He might not be much of a fighter, but he hadn't gotten killed yet. Well, maybe that one time, but he wouldn't have even gotten into that battle if Ares hadn't forced him into it. 

"I never *forced* anyone into a battle." 

"You did so. If you hadn't fixed it so I could fight well, I--" 

"I didn't *fix* anything." 

"But I almost killed those two guys." 

"So?" 

"So I can't do that. Not without help, anyway." So maybe Ares wasn't rubbing off on him. It was probably more direct than that. 

"And who helped you?" 

Why was Ares playing games? "You did." 

"Why in Tartarus would I want to do that?" 

"So... I don't know. Gods have their reasons. Maybe... Maybe you *wanted* me to fight so I would get myself killed." Joxer noticed that he was raising his voice, almost shouting, and took a breath before speaking again. "You probably wanted me to die, so you could get rid of a 'nuisance.' No. Wait. You were probably just getting me back for leaving, because I *can*, anytime I want, and you just can't stand that you..." He heard his own voice breaking and realized that he was so angry he couldn't control it anymore, so he stopped, his cheeks hot from having said what he never, ever wanted to say aloud. 

Ares' head was tipped back and he was inhaling, deeply, a not very nice grin playing at his mouth that made Joxer want to hit him, hard. Instead, he clenched his hands at his sides, digging his nails into his palms until the urge passed. 

"Yes. You *do* understand, don't you. Joxer, you fought well that day because you were angry. Because you were so angry with me that it made you strong. And dangerous." 

Joxer purposefully uncurled his fingers, wincing at the sharp sting of sweat on the crescents he'd cut into his skin. The memory of that day was clouded by that one emotion. Anger. Overwhelming even his fear. He had been pretty angry. And he wasn't, usually. He actually had a pretty mild temper. Compared to Xena, anyway. Most insults he just ignored so they didn't affect him. And what else was there to be angry about? Well, if that was all there was to it, he'd just get angry more often. Then he wouldn't need Ares to defend him. 

Ares rocked back on his heels, speaking slowly and softly. "Think back, Joxer. Have you ever, in your short, mortal life, been that angry before?" 

He thought about it. All the times he'd been pushed around by bigger boys, then bigger men. All the times his brother had made fun of him. Even the times when he'd tried to defend Gabrielle. And he thought about that day on the battlefield and how his anger had been like a fire burning him from the inside out. How every time he looked at Ares, it just got hotter until he felt actual hatred for the first time and wished for death. It hadn't been a pleasant feeling. He'd felt strong, then, but not good. Remembering it, he wasn't sure it was worth going through that again, even if it did improve his chances in battle. 

"I guess not." No. Nothing else had ever made him that angry. It wasn't the guys coming at him with swords, even. It was Ares. Everything was more intense around him. While he was with Ares, even when he wasn't with him, when he was just thinking about the God, he felt better and worse, everything he'd felt before, just more of it. Like it was a matter of life and death, all the time. "Hey, wait a minute. Does that mean you're going to keep me alive by fighting with me for the rest of my life?" Still feeling the tang of anger deep in his belly, Joxer was a little horrified to realize that the idea wasn't all that bad. Still, he shivered at the thought, because it *was* horrible. 

Ares made a disgusted face. "Not bloody likely." 

"So..." 

"It's taken care of." 

"But how?" 

"I've made a little *deal* with Hades." 

Joxer wasn't sure why, but every time Ares said Hades' name now, he growled and that little muscle in his cheek twitched. The Dark Look of Doom. It was Joxer's least favorite look. The one that said that Ares regretted he'd ever heard the name Joxer. But before he could start to feel too bad about it, or even brood on the discomfort of his interest in continuing to fight with Ares over mortality, or anything else that came up, Ares pushed him down onto the sand and rolled over on top of him and kissed him, hard enough that he couldn't breathe. 

"So--I guess--the thing--with Hades--was that bad?" 

Ares just growled and moved his whole body down against him. Joxer felt like the weight of the world was pressing him into the ground, burying him in the hot sand. The small blanket he'd unrolled was now bunched up under his lower back and wasn't protecting his skin from the rough sand anymore. He wiggled to try to reposition it, but Ares only pressed down with more force. Hades must have really ticked Ares off. The God's kisses were quickly turning into bites and it was all Joxer could do to not scream when Ares' mouth clamped down on his nipple. The strong suction had long since pulled his nipples erect, but Ares continued, flicking his tongue quickly and without mercy. Joxer guessed that he was going to need bandages after this. But he didn't argue. Because it was also really, really good. Ares had moved to his neck, sucking on a spot that still felt bruised from his last attack. Joxer shuddered as Ares bit down, breaking his skin. The sticky warmth of his own blood dripping down his neck itched, but he couldn't get his arms up to scratch it or wipe the blood away. But even as he thought of it, Ares was already licking the blood off, his rough tongue a further irritation to the wound. Joxer no longer worried about why something that hurt could feel this good. If it was a kink, it wasn't much stranger than Ares' strange fascination with mortal necks. 

"Just yours." The low voice was a dangerous purr, almost a growl, but happier. Joxer had heard that sound when he got too close to a big cat having dinner. He knew it would be a very bad idea to move or even breathe too loudly right now. Ares was very territorial sometimes. 

He relaxed his limbs under the weight of the God. If he had to choose between a patient, gentle lover and the God of War shredding him to pieces, it was no contest. Ares was everything. 

Even so, the metal studs in Ares' vest *were* digging into his chest, and there were some pains that, try as hard as he could to work on it, would never seem pleasant. And he was afraid to protest because Ares might stop moving to take off his vest, or worse, he might change his mind again. The coarse sand under his back was too hot to make a good bed and it really starting to burn as it rubbed against his skin. He arched his back slightly, trying to get more comfortable, but no matter how much he shifted, the sand was still scraping him raw. 

He considered flipping Ares over onto his back. It occurred to him that Ares might even like the sensation of sand over his "skin." But the God was heavy and Joxer knew that it was a risky thing to try without his permission. Especially when Ares was in this mood. But when Ares growled low in his throat and bit down on Joxer's shoulder, drawing still more blood, he decided that he'd had enough of lying there. If the God wanted to fight, he'd get a fight. This kind of fight produced a fire in him stronger and more insistent than the searing sand. Joxer took as deep a breath as he could manage with the weight of the God compressing his lungs and then struggled against Ares with as much force as he had. Which turned out to be not very much, apparently. The God laughed softly, mocking him, but didn't budge. Even that sound seemed to arouse Joxer to something more than anger, and he buried his fingers in the God's hair and pulled back hard, arching his back until he could land a soft kiss over Ares' pulse. When he pulled back, he could taste the salt of the God's sweat against his lips, stinging the small cut on his lower lip where he'd bitten into it. Ares only laughed again and raked his fingers along Joxer's side until Joxer had to let go of the soft curls or be tickled to death. 

Ahh. A satin sheet was suddenly protecting his back from the sand. The satin was slipping over the sand, or maybe the sand was slipping under the satin. Somehow, Ares was keeping the fabric from bunching up and so Joxer rubbed against it. It felt so good, rubbing his bare shoulders against the sheet and the sand, that he almost didn't notice when Ares finally lifted off of him and pulled off his vest. Joxer opened his eyes in time to see the God straddling him, his hands still behind his back as if they were tied there. 

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you, little one." 

He didn't say anything. He just pictured the God of War trussed up with leather straps around his wrists, tied to the bedposts of that big bed, a blindfold over those dark eyes. 

"No blindfold. I want to watch you come." 

Joxer ran his tongue over his lips nervously, suddenly self-conscious in the wake of the receding anger and trying hard to imagine what Ares saw when he looked at him, what he looked like when he came. Did he look ridiculous even then? Ares looked...well, like nothing else...awe-inspiring. The fifth time Ares had taken him, he had finally found the strength to force himself to open his eyes so he could see the God come, wanting that image to keep with him, knowing it would be enough to bring him off when Ares finally left him. He would still have that, the darkness in Ares' eyes, the tense cords of his neck as he tipped his head back, his mouth slightly opened, his soft, full bottom lip trapped as he bit down and groaned, shuddering over and over before he collapsed. 

Oh, yes...it would be enough to bring him off. When Ares came to his senses again. 

Any moment could be the last one, the last time he tasted Ares, drowned and was crushed beneath him. He knew the Gods were fickle. Ares could have anyone he wanted. Well, anyone but Xena and Gabrielle. And probably not Hercules, either. Or Iolaus... not if Hercules was still around, anyway. But maybe Autolycus. After all, Autolycus didn't have many moral problems with theft, so he probably didn't with War, either. And Joxer was pretty sure he was unattached. And he was handsome. So if it was just about hard to get, Joxer knew he wasn't, and they were. He was actually pretty easy to get, really. It wasn't like there was a line of people throwing themselves at him. He knew what he looked like. Not just in the mirror or in the water. He'd watched Jett grow up with him and he always thought he looked, well, not handsome. Goofy. Well, his brother stopped looking goofy when he started to kill people, but Joxer knew he still looked goofy. Awkward. So is that what Ares liked? That he was weaker and mortal and flawed? Is that why Ares didn't want him around forever? Ares would still be a God, but Joxer wouldn't be nearly as weak if he was Immortal. Would that threaten Ares? 

Ares was frowning down at him. 

"Is there somewhere you'd rather be, mortal?" 

"No. I was just thinking." 

"If you can still think, I'm obviously not doing this right." Ares voice was a low growl and Joxer knew he was getting angry again. 

"You do everything right, Ares. You're a God." Joxer said it automatically, without really thinking about it. He was getting used to appeasing Ares. He wasn't so hard to handle, really. Once you got used to it. 

"Like I'd forget." 

Ares lowered himself down, resting his weight over Joxer's body. Ares' skin was pleasantly cool and the black hair that spread across the his chest, outlining Ares' muscles and trailing down his flat belly, was soft and tickled a little. Joxer didn't have any hair on his own chest and he'd felt kind of self-conscious about it, at first. But then he decided it was like everything else. He was so different from Ares that there was no point in comparing himself to the God. Gods were beyond mortal perfection. He just wouldn't think about it. He would just feel this and it would be enough. 

Ah, yes. Ares switched tactics, slowing his movements and letting his bites become softer nips, then even softer kisses. Having some experience now, Joxer decided that he liked this way the best. Slow and soft at first, with time to explore Ares and to let that intensity build. Ares rubbed against him, moaning softly as the pressure increased, their movements falling into a now familiar rhythm. Joxer ran his hands over Ares' broad back, letting his fingers trace the muscle and bone, the smooth skin that stretched tight over the sharp blades of the God's shoulders, the arch that led into the swell of Ares' ass, still covered in leather. Joxer stretched so he could slide his fingers under the edge of leather and touch the soft skin there and let his nails drag across the sensitive spot at the lowest point of Ares' back. Ares moved into his touch, as Joxer knew he would. 

Ares' body was becoming familiar to him, but he was sure he would never know it the way he might know another mortal's body. There was too much power that lay just below the surface of the shifting muscles and warm, bronzed skin. Joxer could see it in the way that Ares held back, averting his eyes when Joxer tried to look into them to see what he'd seen that first night Ares had offered him that power. He knew Ares only allowed him to see a glimpse of it, but even that had taken his breath away and excited him almost beyond reason, beyond the ability to say no. And, having said no with more than a little reluctance, he was now sure that Ares thought that he disapproved of that power. But he didn't disapprove. Not exactly. He wanted to tell Ares so the God believed him, finally, that he didn't know how to love just a part of him, that it was everything, all at once, but Joxer still couldn't find the words to encompass all of a God. Gabby had told him a story, once, about a child who didn't know how to pray to his God, and so he had recited the alphabet over and over again, counting on the God himself to put the letters to use. But even that seemed like not enough. Ares was the Alpha and the Omega, but he was also something Joxer felt sure was just outside of language, something vast with sharp edges and blood-red softness, something that he *felt* in those moments the God was inside him, impaling him so he couldn't breathe or think, taking him somewhere so far outside himself that he couldn't even remember what came next or how to make Ares see that he was turned on by that power without wanting it for himself. 

Once--it seemed like another life, almost--he'd really believed that nice was as close to perfect as he could hope to get. Actually, anything else pretty much scared him too much to even consider. He had wanted Gabrielle and couldn't understand why Gabrielle, who was so sweet and innocent, could want someone like Xena. Now, he understood. Ares' love was a kind of darkness, but he wasn't afraid of it. He was awed by it, by the brutality of War and the passion that the God inspired. He'd never felt anything like it, not even from Xena. An energy that wasn't just inside Ares or in his Warriors. It was in himself, now, as well. He could feel it rising inside, a bloodlust and a desire that made him afraid of himself sometimes, but never of Ares. Xena was wrong to turn away from that energy. He was sure of it. She just didn't understand. Ares was a God and he was War but he was also this large, very beautiful man who was kissing him softly now with lush lips as soft as flowers and sweet like strong wine. He could get drunk on it but there were no hangovers or morning afters...just...well, if it weren't insulting to the God, he might have said that Ares brought him peace, or something like it. Sometimes, after Ares left him and Joxer knew Ares was leading his armies to war, he thought he'd come just remembering how that mouth felt on his and he wondered how Ares managed to get anyone to listen to his orders because no matter what else Ares was saying, his mouth always suggested soft kisses. 

Ares continued to rub against him and Joxer wrapped his arms around the God's shoulders, letting his fingers slide again into the thick black curls at the back of his neck. Joxer still wasn't sure why the Gods on Olympus took human form. Did they have to? Ares could disappear or be here, as he was now, hard and heavy above him. But was he really something else, something untouchable and unthinkable when he was alone? Ares seemed almost human, almost mortal sometimes. But he was also different, alien, especially now, when they were pressed so close together, when Ares should seem the most human. 

Every touch, every movement the God made seemed charged with that strange, crackling energy that went right to Joxer's cock. They were both still clothed from the waist down, but Ares made no move to undress them further. Joxer could feel that he was close, anyway. The thrust of Ares hips against his own were perfectly timed, driving him harder and closer to the edge. But he seemed to be stopped there, not for lack of stimulation but because something kept holding him back. 

"Is it--like this--with another God?" The words escaped between kisses, when Ares let him breathe again. 

"Not like this." 

"So if you make me--" 

"Different." Ares whispered the word between gasps, continuing to thrust against him. 

Different how? How different? There were just too many questions unanswered. Too many things he didn't understand. Did Gods do this with other Gods? Did they pretend to be like mortals, with real bodies and all, or did they do something else? What did Ares feel when they were making love? Was it anything like he felt? Better? Did Ares need this as much as mortals, as much as he did? He didn't even realize how much he needed this until he had it, and now he wasn't sure he could live without it. What did Gods do with each other? What would it look like? And why would you *want* to have sex with a mortal when you could do whatever it was with another God? What could possibly interest a God about a mortal man who even now had no real idea how to please him and who could only give himself up to Ares and follow his lead, taking pleasure guiltily and greedily. 

"Okay. That's it. I give up." 

A callused hand came down and slapped him lightly on his hip. 

"Ow. Why'd you do that?" 

"You're somewhere else." 

Ares rolled off of him and propped himself up on his elbow. Without the God's weight pinning him down, Joxer felt suddenly so light he might float off the sand. 

"No. I'm right here." He tried to sound sure of it, but his head was light and he still felt a little breathless and more than a little aroused. 

Ares arched an eyebrow at him. "You get off on thinking about immortality?" 

"No. I--I'm thinking about *you*." He made an effort to think of something that would show Ares in the best possible light, but he kept getting stuck on an image of Ares, tied to the bed and then slipping out of the bindings and becoming pure light, something too hot to touch and too bright to look at. 

Ares' expression didn't change. 

"If you don't believe me, read my mind." 

He touched his temple for emphasis, but Ares shook his head and sighed. 

"Why should I bother?" 

"Because you can." Wasn't that why Ares did most things? Joxer regretted that thought just after he thought of it, not sure that Ares would appreciate it. 

"And *you* can speak." 

"Yeah, but I can think, too." 

Ares rolled his eyes and Joxer was about to argue the point, but Ares continued. "If the Gods wanted you to *think* we would have made you like horses." 

"I don't think I'd have made a very good horse." 

Ares rolled his eyes again. Apparently it was a stupid thing to say. But he *was* pretty sure he'd make a bad horse. 

"Joxer, you'd be the same kind of horse as you are a human. And I'd ride you either way." 

Joxer wasn't at all sure if that was intended as a compliment, but he let it slide. "Um. So what kind of animal would you be if you could be an animal?" 

"Joxer. I *can* be an animal." This time, the rolled eyes were accompanied by a deep sigh. 

"Well, I think you'd make a good horse. A wild, black horse." He didn't mention the dragon, since it probably didn't count as an animal. 

"Hmm. Got a kink for Centaurs, do you? Would you rather talk about horses than do this?" One hand trailed over Joxer's ribs, tracing them lightly enough to be excruciating. 

"I didn't want to talk at all. *You* want me to talk because you're too lazy to read my mind." The words just slipped out before he had a chance to stop them. But if Ares did happen to listen to his thoughts, he would have heard it anyway. 

"Fine. Don't talk. I don't really care." 

Ares looked up as if hearing something. Joxer strained and couldn't hear anything but the birds calling to each other overhead and the soft whoosh of wind moving through the trees. 

"What is it?" 

"Xena. She's almost taken care of her little...problem. She'll be headed back here soon. Should I delay her so we can continue our...conversation?" 

Joxer almost said yes. But it wasn't nice. He'd almost forgotten about her, but Gabrielle was probably getting tired of doing whatever it was and they hadn't even had lunch yet. He wondered if Ares could stop time, but didn't ask. The idea was too weird, and he wasn't sure he could relax enough to take advantage of it. 

"No. I guess not. Let them come back." There was a certain feeling of power in saying that. Let them come back. If Xena knew he could do this, she'd probably like him even less than she did thinking he was just an annoyance. 

Ares stood up, pulled his vest back on and brushed the sand from his body and onto Joxer. He wasn't sure if Ares was doing it to be annoying. Probably. He could be kind of petty when he didn't get what he wanted. But it wasn't like either one of them had gotten what they wanted. Not really. He brushed the sand off himself and onto the satin sheet, which seemed to melt into the sand before disappearing. 

"Well, it's been... " Ares trailed off. 

"Entertaining?" 

"Hardly." 

"Sorry." He looked down at the sand, grabbing a handful and letting it sift through his fingers. There was so much of it. Gabby said there were as many stars as there were grains of sand, but he didn't really believe that. He looked up at the sun, again blocked by Ares' figure, and shook his head, feeling suddenly very sad. 

"I'm not here as your guest, Joxer. You are not responsible for entertaining me." 

Then what am I responsible for? But he didn't ask that. He was a little afraid of what the answer would be. He still wasn't sure what Ares wanted from him. Ares said it was love, but he was pretty sure Ares didn't have a lot of experience with love. 

"Oh. So where are you going now?" 

Ares waited a few seconds before speaking, just long enough for Joxer to guess that Ares was choosing his words carefully, maybe even preparing a lie. "A few Warlords are getting lazy in the southern province." 

"Lazy God, lazy Warlords. Is there a connection you think?" 

"Give a God a break, Joxer." And he glared at him again and tugged at the bottom of his vest in a way that Joxer found incredibly sexy. The sadness he'd felt vanished with the force of the rush of desire that returned, too late. He regretted, suddenly, letting Ares go away so soon, when he was still unsatisfied about so many things. 

There were still too many questions. Things Ares was refusing to tell him, on purpose, and Joxer wanted to know the answers and to know why Ares wouldn't tell him. Sometimes, it was like they were so close. And then Ares pulled away and called him a mortal and said he wouldn't understand. And sometimes Ares talked to him almost like he was an equal. Well, not an equal, but not an idiot, either. Xena didn't even do that. Even Gabrielle didn't do that. And it wasn't like Ares had stepped down to his level, or that he was any closer to a God. He wasn't sure what it was. It was as if they'd both met somewhere in the middle without actually moving at all. He wished he could ask Gabrielle if that was what it was like with Xena. Or maybe Iolaus and Hercules. But Ares wouldn't let him. And he hadn't figured out how to make it a hypothetical question, although he knew what those were now. 

"No. Absolutely not." 

"I didn't say anything." 

"You were thinking it." 

"Thinking what? I thought you were too tired to read my mind." 

"Don't have to. You get that look whenever you're thinking of doing something you know I won't like." 

"I do? Oh." He tried to wipe all expression from his face while thinking about telling Gabby and found that Ares was right. He couldn't help but smile at the idea. It would be so wonderful. Just to tell *someone*. "Never? Oh come on. Never's a long time. Please?" 

"No." 

"Not even if--" 

"Not even. No." 

"But--" 

"Joxer, if you ask one more time, I'll pull out your tongue." 

His mouth was already open to speak, but he shut it again, nearly biting his own tongue in his haste. Ares probably would, too. He might put it back. He might even take away the pain. But still. Yech. So he didn't ask again, and even though the question was on the tip of his tongue, he kept it pressed against the inside of his cheek. And that was where it would stay. 

He heard voices in the bushes and saw the white flash of Ares' exit just before Xena burst out of bush covered in something wet and slimy. Ick. Gabrielle looked even worse. Her hair was stringy with green leafy things in it. She wasn't exactly pretty, but he was still glad to see her. 

"Hi. Um. What's for lunch?" 

"Here." Xena's hand moved too fast to see it and something large and smelly landed in his lap. Yuck. 

"Fish?" 

"Maybe. Gabrielle seems to think so." 

"Is it edible?" 

She was still pulling those green things from her hair. "It's not poisonous. As for edible, you can taste it first." 

"Thanks." He held it up and tried to figure out which end was the head. It was black and shiny and pretty ugly. He looked up to ask Xena if he should skin it or just wrap it up, but she was headed back into the trees again. 

"And where do you think *you're* going while we do all the work?" Gabrielle sounded irritated. Trouble in the Elysian Fields. 

"*I'm* taking a bath." Xena stomped off into the brush and disappeared. 

Apparently, Ares had seriously overestimated how much fun his game would be. 

* * *

After four more days on the road, they finally stopped at a small town. It was just like all the others and Joxer missed the sign coming in and didn't even know its name. It was midday and everyone was out on the main streets doing business, raising the dust into the air so that Joxer found himself coughing a bit when a team of horses was driven by. Xena said they were there so she could check up on an old friend and they were going to meet her for dinner at the inn. It was nice to eat at an inn. He hardly ever did, except when he was with Xena and she paid for everything. The food was always better and there was ale, which he tried not to drink too much of because it usually made him sad. 

Xena had left Gabby behind and Joxer wanted to ask if she minded being left while Xena went off on business. It was kind of like when Ares left him to do whatever it was he did. Joxer didn't like thinking too much about what, exactly, Ares might be doing. Some of it actually made him a little sick just thinking about it. But he reminded himself again that Ares was a God and Gods set the standards, they didn't follow them. 

"So, is there anyplace you want to go while we're here?" 

"Where?" 

"This *town*, Joxer. We could visit the smithy, if you want." 

"You want a weapon?" It was hard to imagine Gabby with a sword. 

"No. I just thought you might want to watch them pound the metal." 

That was fun to watch. But first he had an idea. "Sure. But let's stop at the altar first." 

"Which one?" 

"Ares'." He could see Gabby was about to say no. "Look, you don't have to pray or anything. I just want to stop there." 

"Well..." She sighed and he expected her to say no, but she didn't. 

The altar wasn't in a real Temple. It was just a small stone alcove that they almost walked right by because it was stuck between two buildings and the roofs cast dark shadows over the whole thing. Joxer glanced around nervously. He liked to do this in private, not like this. Especially now. 

He lit the candle stub on the large flat stone and knelt down in front of the flame. There was a small statue of the God standing beside the candle and Joxer thought that Ares probably didn't like that very much because it made him look small. But it was a pretty good likeness of Ares with an upraised sword. For some reason, looking at it made him think of sex and he had to bite back the urge to ask Gabrielle if she thought so too. 

He thought about just praying in his head, but it didn't seem right. He still wasn't sure if Ares listened all the time and whether it mattered if you spoke out loud. Besides, Ares had been kind of anti-thought lately. 

"Ares. I offer you..." Stupid. He'd forgotten to bring anything. You were supposed to offer something, even a token. Why had he forgotten that? The words came automatically, but he'd somehow forgotten the gift. It's not like he hadn't done this his whole life. 

"What's wrong, Joxer?" 

"I forgot an offering." He was whispering but didn't know why. It was something about the dark of this place, and the candle that flickered as his words passed over it. 

"Here." Gabrielle reached into her little bag and pulled out a piece of fruit. She used her fingers to break the fruit in two. "Ares can have half. But tell him it's not from me." She bit into the other half of it. 

He would have said, "Tell him yourself," but he knew that she wasn't really on speaking terms with Ares. One of these days he would have to fix that. If Ares ever let him. Instead, he just said, "Okay. Thanks," and placed the fruit in front of the candle. He would have liked to give Ares something more impressive, something less sweet, but it was just a gesture, and Ares probably didn't really care either way. 

He spoke out loud, feeling a bit silly. He didn't need to go to an altar to speak to Ares. In fact, it felt kind of strange to pray to someone you'd been lying beneath a few days before. But it was a habit, and so he did it. And maybe it would make up for his earlier dismissal of Ares. "Ares. I offer you this piece of fruit. It's from me, not Gabrielle. But you know that. Look, I hope you're not angry with me about the, um, well, you know. I know you're always around and you have lots to do. But--" And he stopped talking out loud when he realized he was babbling meaninglessly because he couldn't say what he wanted to say in front of Gabrielle, and so he finished off by thinking as hard and as loudly as he could. "I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry that I was thinking too much. Please come back. If you're not busy. I--I really want you. God, I *want* you." 

Just thinking about what it felt like to have Ares' cock inside him made him want to kick himself. Why couldn't he have left well enough alone? Because mortals always want more than they can have. Right. It wasn't enough to have the God of War taking your clothes off. No, *he* had to worry about how the Gods had sex. And horses. What in the world had made him care about horses when Ares was lying on top of him, offering himself? He shook his head. Really stupid. 

He got up off his knees. 

"Done?" Gabby sounded impatient. 

"Yeah. Thanks for coming with me. Um, is there an altar you want to stop at?" 

"No. I think I'll wait until Xena can join me." 

"Oh. So who do you usually pray to?" 

"Sometimes to the Muses. And to Gaia." 

He'd thought about praying to the Muses once, when he got stuck and couldn't think of any more verses to his song, but he finally decided not to. The song was the only thing he'd ever written, and he took a certain pride in having composed it without Divine inspiration. Well, except for the one verse about Ares. "So... When you pray to them...um... do they ever answer?" 

"Yes." 

"What do they say?" He realized that he was really curious. He didn't know many people who talked to their Gods and were answered, but he was pretty sure it wasn't like it was with him and Ares. 

"Well. The Muses speak to me through my writing. And Gaia...She doesn't really ever *say* anything. But when the sun is warm and the air is light and the hills are green...I know she hears me." 

"That's really beautiful, Gabrielle." He meant it, too. Gabby really was a poet, with or without Divine inspiration. 

"Thanks. So, praying to Ares when it isn't even a Holy Day. I guess you really *do* want to be a Warrior, huh?" 

She almost sounded...impressed...and he pulled himself upright and walked a little taller for a few seconds before it occurred to him. She was wrong. He didn't want to be a Warrior, actually. But he couldn't say no or she'd ask why he was praying to the God of War. And he couldn't say yes because it would be a lie. So he didn't say anything. Gabby didn't seem to notice. She was still talking, hitting the ground with her staff so her steps sounded funny, like she had three feet. Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump. He started to walk in time to the beat, feeling happier as they stepped out of the shaded alley and onto the main village road. Gabby stopped there and they both stood and watched as the townspeople passed by, each on their own business. 

"I know prayer styles are kind of a personal thing..." 

"Yeah?" 

"Well, I was just thinking. When some people pray, it's like they're talking to their parents, y'know? Like they're children again." 

"Except for the children. They really *are* children." 

"Good point." She laughed. "Yeah. And some people, they pray like they don't really expect that anyone's listening." 

"So why do they bother?" 

"I don't know. Maybe they think that if someone *is* listening, it's safer to pray than to not pray. Or maybe they do it because everyone else is." 

"Of course someone's listening." 

"Not everyone thinks so. I once met someone who didn't believe in Gods." 

"None of them?" 

"Nope. He called himself an atheist." 

"That's silly. Of course there are Gods." 

"Well, you know that and I know that, Joxer. But most mortals have never seen them." 

"Oh." That made sense. It was kind of funny. Most people lived their whole life without ever seeing a God. And here he was seeing a whole lot of them. And a whole lot of one of them. 

"So how do I sound when I pray?" He didn't know why he asked. He knew how he *felt* when he prayed. But not how he sounded. And he wondered what Ares thought, how he sounded to Ares. 

"Um. Well, you sound almost like you *know* Ares. I mean, you talk about him with a lot of...familiarity." 

Oh. He should have followed his instincts and prayed quietly. "Yeah, well. You know. I've been praying to him since I was a kid. Telling him everything. So it's kind of like talking to a friend." Or something. 

"Hmph. Ares doesn't *have* friends." 

Joxer really wanted to argue that point, then reconsidered. Actually, he wasn't sure that Gabby hadn't hit on something. Did Ares have friends? Was that what he was? He felt like it was an important question, but he was interrupted by Gabrielle before he could figure it out. 

"So has Ares answered any of *your* prayers?" 

He opened his mouth to say "of course" but then stopped to think about that. Ever since he was a kid, he'd prayed to be strong. And he wasn't. He'd prayed to be a good swordsman. And he wasn't that, either. Come to think of it, nothing he'd ever asked for had come true. "I guess not." 

"So why do you keep praying to him?" 

It was a good question. He wanted to say, 'For the same reason I kept trying to get you to love me. Because I can't give up and sometimes it's almost enough to love someone even if they don't love you.' But sometimes it wasn't enough. And with Ares, at least, it didn't have to be. But he couldn't say any of that. 

"Because I love him. Because he's...the God of War. He's...my God." He wanted to make her understand what it was like to love a God that much. But he couldn't. Even that was probably saying too much. But he checked and his tongue was still in his mouth. Of course, there was always the possibility that Ares wasn't even listening. That he was busy somewhere. Which was funny, because if he *wasn't* listening, then maybe they never did listen. He'd just kind of assumed that they did, or why did mortals have to pray to them? 

"I guess that makes sense." Gabrielle shrugged and started off towards the smithy. 

He watched her walk away, noticing the way her bottom swayed as she moved. He suddenly felt wrong about leaving the altar as he had, and called out to Gabby to wait a second. She stopped in front of a clothing cart and he ran back to the altar. He thought of praying again, but couldn't find the words he wanted to say, now that Gabby was gone and he *could* say them. Instead, he reached out and ran his finger over the Ares-statue's sword and pulled back quickly, because the blade was actually sharp. His fingertip left a smear of blood on the blade. Ares would appreciate that. Now, the little Ares looked dangerous, like he'd just been in battle with a tiny Hercules. 

Joxer put his finger in his mouth and sucked on the blood, telling himself that the smarting pain of it and the pulsing in his fingertip felt good. But he obviously didn't have whatever power Ares did, because he wasn't able to convince himself that it didn't hurt. As he continued to suck on it, he thought about what he'd said to Gabby. Because I love him. There was nothing remotely suspicious about that. Nothing that might imply that he had made love to the God of War. That he had tasted him, the salt-bitter come almost like blood, and even now would give anything to lie naked beneath his God if only Ares would give him another chance to not think, to lose himself in that body and those dark, infinite eyes. 

He looked down at the piece of fruit, already turning brown in the air. Not much of an offering. Especially for what he wanted in return. Before he could stop himself, he was stroking the small statue, again. Even though it had cut him before, he told himself he would just steer clear of the blade. The rest of the statue was safe, and his hand was drawn to it, to the shape of it and the way the light seemed to catch the metal, making it glimmer in the dim light. But it was cold steel and not at all what he wanted. 

He waited a few seconds in front of the altar, hoping for a flash of white light. But either Ares was still annoyed with him, or he hadn't been listening. Or he doesn't want you anymore. He silenced that voice before he could become convinced of that. It was too horrible to think about. 

He had to run to catch up with Gabby and he almost knocked into the door at the smithy because he was going too fast. He skidded to a stop in time to bow before the altar to Hephaestus. Maybe Hephaestus didn't notice, but he didn't think it made sense to risk having his weapon shatter. Gabrielle was right. Most people probably prayed just in case. 

Gabrielle was looking at some small knives on the wall of the shop. They had fancy hilts and some of them had names engraved on the blades. Joxer didn't have the money to buy anything, so he watched the smithy, who was busy pounding a heated broadsword. The man's enormous arms were blackened with soot and Joxer admired the way the skillful hammer blows shaped and smoothed the dull blade. The metal was almost blue with the fire caught within it. After it cooled, it would be sharpened on the grinding stone. That was always his favorite part, when the sparks flew off the blade and into the air. When he was younger, he would hang out at the local smithy and watch the swords progress from molten metal to deadly silver weapons and he would sometimes stand close to the stone while the blades were being sharpened and try to catch the sparks that flew into the air. But he never could. He remembered the metalsmith laughing at him, asking him what he thought he was doing. And when he'd said, "I'm catching stars" the smithy had laughed harder and told Joxer's mother the story when she rounded him up for dinner. Then his mother had told everyone at the table and Jett had laughed at him too, calling him a fool who couldn't catch even catch a cold without finding a way to screw up. 

The memory brought a blush to his cheeks and he hoped that Gabby wouldn't notice or would think it was the heat of the shop. Joxer watched the air sizzle and gel above the coals. Clang. Clang. Each time the hammer came down Joxer felt himself jump slightly. 

His shirt was too warm and he decided finally that Gabby was right. It wasn't even summer yet and it would continue to get hotter. Which, of course, was why the new shirt had been cheap enough for him to afford. They would have to stop at the leather shop and see if they had anything sleeveless in his price range. Now *that* was something he should have asked Ares for. Of course, Ares wasn't in the habit of dressing mortals. Undressing them, but not dressing them. 

"Is that what you want?" The voice was a low whisper in his ear, almost lost in the crackling of the fire. 

He didn't speak, but tried to think as clearly as possible. "A shirt? Yeah. I'd like a vest like yours. This thing's too hot." 

"I *meant* do you want me to undress you." He couldn't see him, but Joxer was sure that Ares was smirking at him. 

"Um. Yes." 

"Good." 

Nothing happened. Not that Joxer actually thought that it would. Ares wasn't going to take him on the floor of the smithy, was he? 

"Mmm. No. Not here." 

"Where then?" It took a real effort and biting his own lip to keep from speaking out loud. 

"Late tonight. I'll come to you." 

"How late?" 

"When it's dark enough to catch the stars." Ares laughed gently and Joxer blushed more deeply, the heated air of the shop now feeling almost cool against his reddened cheeks. 

* * *

"Another ale, good woman." 

"Joxer. Don't you think you've had enough?" 

"Nope." He set the empty mug on the table. They'd had dinner already, and then Xena ordered a pitcher of ale. She was in a good mood and Joxer couldn't turn down a free drink. He had been watching the door, waiting for the sun to set. It had been hours and he was beginning to think the sun was staying up there forever, but sometime between his first drink and now, it had gotten dark out. But the sky was cloudy, threatening rain, so he had, after a few drinks, decided that Ares might not come at all if there were no stars to catch. He hadn't really meant to drink this much, but every time he wanted to say something about Ares, he took a drink. And he wanted to say something most of the night. Xena had been bragging about her friend, who was a reformed Warrior, just like Xena. And she kept bad-mouthing Ares, getting bolder about it after she had some drink in her. He almost argued, but decided that, even drunk, she was still a lady and it wouldn't be right to have to fight her in her weakened condition. Besides, part of him was hoping that maybe she would tick Ares off and make him appear in a rage. He looked so perfect when he was angry. Joxer sighed and took another drink. 

"Xena, this is his fifth ale. Look at him. He's getting drunk." 

"He's a big boy, aren't you Joxer?" Xena ruffled his hair as she said it. She seemed to like Ares less and him more when she was drinking. Actually, the only one still sober seemed to be Gabby. Silly Gabby. 

"Well, I'm not carrying him tonight." 

"I can walk." Not really true. He knew that, even sober, walking was usually difficult. Too many things to trip you. He giggled. Drunk, maybe he was safer. He knew it wasn't supposed to hurt as much to fall if your body was relaxed. Which it was. Totally relaxed. Even his lips were relaxed. Kind of tingly. Kind of numb in spots. "Gabby?" 

"Yes?" 

"Gabby?" 

"Yes, Joxer. I'm listening." 

"Gabby. Gabby. Gabby." 

"Joxer. My name is Gabrielle and--" 

"Gabby-rielle." He rolled the sounds out, testing them. As girl names went, it was pretty. Soft. Xena was a sharp name, like a chakram cutting through the air. He didn't like her name, much. It wasn't a good girl name, but it was very Xena. 

"Close enough." 

"'m in love w' some-someone else now so y'don't need t'take care of *me*." It was hard to talk for some reason. His lips were tripping each other. That was funny. Lips tripping. Tripping lips. Loose lips... what was it they did? He couldn't remember. 

"What?" 

"Not in love w'Gabby--w'you anymore. Someone else." 

"In love? With me?" 

"No. Not with *you*. With--someone else." Didn't she remember? Silly Gabby. That's why she always copied everything he said in those little scrolls. He'd told her this already. I love Ares. No. That wasn't what he'd said. Because I love him. Yeah, that was it. Because I'm in love with him. 

Wait. Love him or *in* love with him? He couldn't remember which one he'd said. Where was love if you were in it? Was it a place like Aphrodite's Temple? Or was it just in Ares, where he wanted to be, to be inside him, sheathed in him, to feel his God's body closing around him. But he was *in* love even when Ares was somewhere else. How could that be? He tested the words out in his head, on his tongue, not saying them out loud but just feeling the way they hummed in his mouth. *In* love. In *love*. In love. 

Mortals weren't supposed to fall in love with Gods, were they? He couldn't remember if it had ever happened before. He would have to ask Gabrielle. She knew all the stories. 

It must've happened after he'd started drinking tonight, because he'd fallen in love hard enough he should be bruised somewhere, but it didn't hurt at all. He checked again. No, he was feeling no pain. 

He should have expected this, prepared for it. It shouldn't be such a surprise, but it was. He fell everyday, so of course he had fallen in love. 

From far away he could see Xena reach out and pet Gabby's arm and whisper in her ear. What was she saying? Gabby blushed and looked at him and her eyes were wide and when she talked she spoke really softly. "Who are you in love with now, Joxer?" 

Ares Ares Ares Ares. The best secret, the best God with the best name. Ares. It sounded like air. Like the air before a storm. Ozone, Ares had said. Ares came with a flash of white like a storm, violent and beautiful. He could taste him on the air. Like ozone. Like ambrosia. He licked his lips, which were suddenly very dry. 

"Where?" He looked around too fast and the motion made the room spin. When he looked back at the table, his mug was full again and he took a gulp of it to steady himself. 

"That's what you said. You said Ares." 

"I--I did?" Oh. Oh no. Oh God. Oh, Ares was going to kill him. Forget immortality. He would go down in history as dying the most horrible excruciating death. The story of his death would be told years from now and people would be too sickened by the violence of it to even laugh. 

"Joxer, you're in *love* with someone named *Ares*? What were his parents thinking?" 

He nodded, letting out the breath he had been holding. He wasn't sure if he should agree with Gabby that he was in love with someone named Ares. It wasn't a lie, exactly. He *was* in love with someone named Ares. Ares was named Ares. And he wasn't really sure what Zeus had been thinking naming him that. It was a good name. Pleasant to say. Especially when he was coming. 

Xena was quiet, but she was watching him too closely and he could feel himself blushing. He could lie now, it wasn't too late for that, and maybe Gabby would believe him. Sure, it was just someone named Ares. A coincidence. But Xena... her eyes could look into your insides and see you squirm. 

He took another gulp of ale, not tasting it at all. He drank too fast and nearly choked, feeling the ale sting the insides of his nose. A dead man. That's what he was. A dead man in love with Ares. Would he still love Ares when he was dead? It wasn't fair. He'd warned him. A person could explode from keeping too many secrets. It just wasn't fair to expect him to not say *anything* at all about it. Ares was wrong. People shouldn't be able to talk. He'd have been better off as a horse. Maybe Ares would spare him and just turn him into an animal. No. That was too good for him. Ares trusted him and now he'd failed him. Let him down. Ares didn't have to kill him. No. He'd do it himself. Goodbye Xena. Goodbye Gabrielle. Goodbye Ares. 

Before he could draw his own sword, strong hands were lifting him out of his seat and into the air. The room spun around him and he reached for something to hold onto, but couldn't grab hold of anything or even lift up his head to rest it on the arm slung under his back and shoulders. He tried to kick his legs, to get away, but the other arm wrapped under his knees held tight and he couldn't move except to arch his body up, which he did only once before realizing that he didn't really want to be dropped from so far up. Everything looked funny from this high up. He tried again to lift his head up but couldn't. It was too heavy and the effort made his stomach hurt. Xena was upside down and her eyes were really wide and Gabby's mouth was hanging open. If Xena was down there, who was carrying him? 

"If you will excuse me, ladies." 

Joxer watched as Xena's upside-down mouth opened but nothing came out. She looked like she was smiling. 

"Don't bother trying to rescue him." Was Ares talking about him? Was he going to kill him? 

He could hear Gabby asking, "He meant *the* Ares?" And Xena didn't answer. Then Gabby asked, "Aren't you going to stop him?" and Xena said, "He won't hurt Joxer, will you Ares?" Their voices sounded funny upside down. No. Their voices were right-side up. Their *faces* were upside-down. And then Gabby, sweet Gabby, said, "Since when do you trust Ares?" But he didn't hear the answer. 

Ares shifted his hold on him and then Joxer couldn't see anything but the black leather vest that pressed against his face. He felt cut adrift and nervous because Ares was holding him tight, but he had no grasp on the God and if Ares let go he would fall. They were moving up some stairs so fast Joxer had to keep his eyes closed because the walls were making him dizzy. 

Oh how could he have done this? It wasn't even the ale. He wasn't sure why it had happened, but it looked like he was finally going to get to meet Hades. That might be interesting. But he'd miss Gabby. Poor Gabby. The look on her face was almost worth it. He thought about that and could almost smile about it. Now Gabby would know what she'd missed. 

The bed came whooshing down to meet him. He tried to call out to the God but his face was full of pillow. His sheathed sword was digging into his hip, so he rolled over and saw the ceiling of the inn but couldn't see Ares anywhere. "Ares? Ares, I'm sorry. Oh God I'm so sorry. I said it, didn't I." 

He didn't answer. Was Ares gone? 

"Ares. I'm sorry. Please come back. You can fix it. Erase their memory. I promise never to do it again. I've learned my lesson. Please." 

Please come back Ares. Or kill me if you don't. 

There was a flash of light and he closed his eyes because it made him sick to see it. 

"You couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you? Just a little thing. Just one *little* thing. And do you do it? Do my threats mean *anything* to you?" 

Ares sat down at the foot of the bed and the bounce of his body hitting the mattress made Joxer's stomach turn again. 

"Gonna be sick." 

"Mortals. What was I thinking? Hmm? Can you tell me why I didn't just let you bleed to death?" 

"Sick." 

"You little impudent--" 

"*Me.* Sick. Gonna be--" 

He jumped out of the bed and just made it into the hall in time to reach the waste bucket. This was absolutely the last time he was going to drink ale. 

When he came back to the room, he felt worse than before, but his head was clearer. Ares had moved to the chair by the window so Joxer dropped his sword and laid back on the bed, trying to ease the ache in his gut. 

Ares was looking coldly at him and Joxer shuddered. There was no hint of the Ares who had let him love him. Joxer knew that Ares counted on his image, on his implicit threat to put mortals in their proper place, but right now he was desperate for Ares to admit that even now, after ruining everything, he was different. Even now he was special. But the God, if he was listening to Joxer's thoughts, refused to grant him that. He concentrated, trying to send a thought as hard as he could, but he found himself begging for too many different things, offering Ares a choice of punishments and pleasures. 

"Should I?" 

"Please, Ares." Kill me. Fuck me. I don't care which. Please. 

"Put you out of your misery, mortal? Well, that hardly seems fair, now does it? Of course, it might make *you* feel better, but what about me? Would it make *me* feel better?" Ares was roaring now and Joxer moved closer to the wall, knowing it wasn't any safer. "Kill the mortal, fuck the mortal. Should I flip a dinar to decide? Do you even have a preference? No. What in Tartarus am I asking you for? With my luck, Hades would just throw you back. Oh, but you were *counting* on that, weren't you?" 

He didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't even thought of that. It had all just happened. Ares should know him well enough to know he wasn't a calculating man. It had just happened. He wanted to argue that it was the Fates that brought him here, but Ares would see through that , too, and it seemed somehow wrong to blame a deity for his own mortal failure. No. If it was anyone's fault, it was Ares'. He'd tried to tell him this would happen. What did he expect from a mortal? 

He tried to sit up and finally just rested on his elbows. His face felt clammy and cold and he still felt queasy, disconnected. Even his voice sounded shaky and hollow. He opened his mouth to talk but Ares cut him off. 

"I don't want to hear your excuses." 

"I--I don't have an excuse. I'm sorry." 

"Oh, the mortal's sorry. I guess I should just forgive you and move on?" 

Move on? Oh, no. Please. "No. You don't have to forgive me." 

"I don't *have* to?" 

That wasn't how he meant it to sound. He tried again, trying to sound as humble as he knew Ares wanted him to feel, but he just couldn't. He realized that he was actually kind of glad it had happened. 

"Ares, was it really that important that it was a secret?" 

Ares just glared silently at him. 

"But if you had just told me *why*..." 

"Oh, so the fact that a God says so is not enough for you?" Ares' voice was harsh. 

"I--I guess not." He whispered, hardly able to get the words past his throat, which felt cottony and tight. 

Ares continued to stare at him and Joxer wondered if he was going to have to throw up again. 

"It is not a mortal's place to understand the Gods, but to obey them." Ares quoted this as if it were the Law. And Joxer realized that it was. The Gods were the Law and he was like Perseus now, a criminal in the eyes of the Gods, or in the eyes of the one God whose judgment mattered. 

"Is that what you want? Do you want me to serve you without question?" He was almost afraid to ask. It wasn't the serving part that was the problem, he knew. It was the questions. He still had so many questions. And now it looked like it was over, and he'd never get the answers. But none of that mattered if Ares left him. 

"Yes." But Ares didn't sound so sure. 

"I should have known something was wrong when I went to the altar. I should have known then. I should have figured it out." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"I don't worship you anymore." 

The words, once spoken, hung in the air between them. For a brief second, the room seemed more quiet than before and he strained to hear Ares' breathing. He had half-expected that saying it, out loud and in front of Ares, would cause the God of War to disappear. As if not worshipping him meant he didn't exist. Did Ares feel it too? The tension in the air, the slight waver of reality that shifted around them? Was it real or just in his head? 

Finally, Ares nodded and Joxer took a breath before continuing, speaking softly, hoping that he could convey why this was so impossible. 

"I forgot to bring you something. I should have known it then, but I didn't. Gabby asked me--she asked if you ever answered my prayers." Joxer looked at the blanket, pulling at the frayed edges of it. But he'd already said the worst of it and Ares was still so silent after his brief anger that Joxer felt compelled to fill the silence. "I told her no. You never gave me what I asked for. I've prayed to you my whole life and you never gave me what I asked for." 

"Let me get this straight. You're telling me that you did this to get *back* at me because you didn't get those stupid toy soldiers for Winter Solstice when you were *five*?" 

He wasn't sure what was stranger--that Ares remembered what he'd asked for or that Ares had heard his prayer and just ignored it. Well, that answered Gabby's question. The Gods did listen to prayers. They just didn't answer them. And those toy soldiers had been really cool. Jett stole a couple from another kid, but wouldn't let Joxer play with any of them unless he did something icky. Like eat a bug or fill up the slop bucket for the pigs. 

"The God of War doesn't *do* toys." Ares sighed and pulled out his small knife and sharpening stone. "Why is it so hard for you to understand? *Mortals* exist to serve the Gods. The Gods do *not* exist to serve mortals." 

"And if I don't serve you I shouldn't exist." It made sense. He'd had this thought before, and before he'd come to the same conclusion. If he couldn't serve Ares by loving him, he would do it by fighting for him and dying for him. But now he knew that even *that* wouldn't be enough. Because he didn't worship Ares anymore. 

He understood, now, what it meant to fall in love with a God. It was the end of everything. Joxer the Mighty, Joxer the Fool. What was he if he didn't worship Ares? Who did he believe in if he didn't believe in Ares? He'd had it backwards. Not worshiping Ares didn't make Ares not exist. It made Joxer not exist. 

He wanted to think about that some more, but suddenly he was very tired, as if he hadn't slept for days. It must be the ale. Maybe it was poisoned? He looked over at Ares, but he had to squint to see him, and even then the God was fuzzy, almost like he could see right through him, like a black shadow on the chair. He gave up when his eyelids got too heavy and the ceiling started to spin again. The room was quiet, like even the birds had stopped singing, and he noticed that his head seemed to be drifting very far away from his body. He was floating on the bed, or maybe he was over it, and the bedding smelled like feathers and soap. He wanted to stay awake to find out if Ares would kill him but his eyes were so heavy and it was so quiet in here. So peaceful. Was this Death coming to take him? He'd never heard of someone fading away, but here he was, fading. Ares shimmered slightly as Joxer forced his eyes open to see him one last time, and Joxer thought his lips moved, but he couldn't hear what he said. Was Ares saying goodbye? Joxer wanted to say goodbye, but couldn't talk, couldn't even think the words anymore and then even the dark and blurry image of the God faded to absolute darkness. 

* * *

It was morning. He could tell because the sun was blinding him, sharp edges of it cutting his eyes out of his head and grinding into his skin. Everything hurt. There was no body part that didn't hurt. And the sheets were coarse and scratchy. He was naked. How had he managed that? 

"Ares?" 

"What." 

He opened his eyes again and saw the God draped over a chair in the room. Had he spent the whole night there? He couldn't remember much about last night except that he'd tried to explain something to Ares and had been sick and had fallen asleep. He had the feeling that there was something important that he figured out, something to do with the altar, and he tried to picture the altar to bring the memory back, but could only see the piece of fruit he'd placed there, and the silver statue of Ares that had looked like a child's toy soldier. 

"It... hurts." He couldn't do more than whisper without making his head come apart. How much ale could he possibly have drunk last night? 

"I know." 

"Could you make the pain--go away?" Even asking that made his head pound. 

"Not a chance. You haven't begun to suffer." 

He almost argued, but the effort made his stomach lurch and he groaned instead. He tried to sit up but couldn't. "I haven't?" He forced the words out, swallowing the bile back quickly. 

Ares shook his head and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. It somehow made Ares look vulnerable. Tired. "It's gonna take years. Decades of this and then *maybe* I'll be satisfied." 

"Decades?" 

"Centuries. You wanted to be immortal, right? Well, welcome to my life." 

Centuries of this? God, it hurt to even think about it. "Let me die, Ares." 

"Nope. Too easy for you. I'm going to think up tortures for you that they haven't even got names for in Tartarus. Ever tried rolling a rock up a hill for eternity?" 

"A small rock?" 

"Oh, yeah. Sure. I'm feeling generous today. We can start you off with a pebble and work up." 

It was getting easier to open his eyes, which felt like boiled cocktail onions, but he focused on Ares anyway. The God was *not* smiling. 

"I, um, told them, didn't I? About you and me. Us." 

"Well, duh." 

He waited a few minutes for Ares to yell at him, but nothing happened. Ares continued to sit there, watching him until he felt like pulling the covers up over himself. But he didn't. Finally, he couldn't keep quiet anymore. "So, you fixed it, right? So it's okay?" 

"How, exactly, am I supposed to *fix* it?" 

Normally he liked Ares voice, but now it was too loud, digging into his ears and echoing horribly. He put his hands over his ears and tried to block it out, but the echo faded out on its own. He was starting to feel irritable, but at least his stomach was settling down. "How am I supposed to know how to fix it. I'm just a lowly mortal who screwed up." 

"You screwed up because *you* seemed to forget who was the God around here. If you like playing God so much, you tell *me* how to fix this." 

"Erase their memories." 

"Bad strategy, Joxer. If you want to be immortal, you need to learn to take the long view. *If* I took their memories away, what's to stop you from getting it into your head to get drunk and betray me again?" 

"But I--" He'd betrayed Ares. And Ares was right. He'd probably do it again. "So what *are* you going to do?" 

"Nothing. I give up. You'll just have to live with the consequences." 

"Give up?" 

"Yeah. You won. I, the God of War, concede victory to Joxer the Mighty-mouth. I'd ask you not to announce your victory from the treetops, but it would be a waste of my energy to ask you to keep it a *secret*, now wouldn't it?" The God's voice dripped with so much sarcasm Joxer almost doubted he was really angry. But the words were harsh and meant to hurt him. He knew Ares wanted him to cower in the corner, to beg and maybe cry again. And he was *not* going to do it. 

"C'mon, Ares. We both know I'd probably fall out of the tree before I got a chance to say anything." It was supposed to be a joke, but Ares didn't smile. This was all wrong. The God of War didn't give up. It just wasn't possible. This was the God who attacked Hercules every time they met. And even Joxer knew there was no way Ares could beat him. The God of War couldn't give up. 

Ares turned to look out the window. Joxer wanted desperately to do something to make Ares smile again. But he really didn't feel up to trying a pratfall, and his jokes were falling flat. He'd been afraid of this all along. 

"Ares, c'mon. It can't be *that* bad." 

Ares laughed harshly. "You have no idea how bad it can be. I even decided on a title for you. We need something for you to do if I'm going to justify your immortality. I came up with a good one. 'Joxer, the God of Lost Causes'." 

"I--" 

"Oh, don't thank me now. Try it on for a while. See how it fits. I don't even think you'll need to grow into it." 

"You can't mean that." 

"Don't you *dare* tell me what I can mean." Ares growled the words and Joxer shrank back into the bed. 

"I'm sorry." 

"So am I. Let's just say goodbye, Joxer and leave it at that." 

"Goodbye, Joxer." It wasn't a joke. He quite suddenly realized that he didn't think he could live without Ares. But Ares was already gone before he could get the words out. So he didn't hear Joxer fall back onto the pillow and moan. 

It was a few minutes more before he could finally bring himself to sit up and look for his clothes. His head was killing him and he knew that it would be better to just sleep it off for the rest of the day, but he didn't have the money to pay for another night. He decided that he should try to find Xena and Gabrielle. Maybe there was something he could say to fix things, if Ares wouldn't. 

He found his pants folded neatly over the chair. But his shirt was gone. He looked around the room, but there was no closet, and only one piece of furniture other than the bed and the chair. He opened the chest at the foot of the bed and was surprised to find a black leather vest inside. He tried it on. It was plain, with no metal studs, and there were laces that he could tie all the way up his chest. There was no mirror so he couldn't see how it looked but he could tell that his arms looked strange and pale at his sides. They never tanned, no matter how long he stayed out in the sun. 

He wondered when Ares had gotten him the vest. It must have been the day before, before he'd gotten so drunk he screwed everything up. It couldn't be later than that. He was surprised that Ares hadn't taken it back or destroyed it. Was it some kind of parting gift? A consolation prize? He ran his hand over the very soft leather and closed his eyes, for a moment letting himself pretend that it was Ares touching him. He quickly opened his eyes, ashamed at the thought. He could not be consoled or comforted by a fantasy. 

None of it made sense. It occurred to him to wonder why Ares had shown up at the inn at all. He'd been drunk. If Ares hadn't come, he was pretty sure Xena and Gabrielle would never have believed him. Without Ares there, there was no proof. 

Most of what Ares did was on impulse, so maybe it was just a mistake. Or maybe Ares was following some sort of complicated plan that mortals just couldn't follow because they couldn't see the long view. Joxer wasn't even sure how long the long view *was*. Ten years? Centuries? Thinking about it made his head hurt more, so he finished getting dressed and left the inn. There was no point in worrying about the long view when he hadn't even had breakfast yet. 

* * *

He caught up with Xena and Gabrielle almost right away. They must have stayed at the inn and left at first light. The horrible sick feeling wore off after the first few miles of walking, and after spending half the day on the road, it was gone entirely and he started to feel better. Well, his body felt better. His heart was still confused. He wanted to talk to Gabrielle, but the women hadn't said a word to him since they'd passed the farms outside the village. He didn't really mind too much, and occupied himself with the problem of how to make it up to Ares. Then he started to think that maybe Ares had taken his advice. The women were acting like it hadn't happened. The tavern, what he'd said-- and he still couldn't really remember exactly what he'd said-- and Ares sweeping him into the air. But he just couldn't think of a way to test their memories without giving it away. If they remembered less than he did of that night, he was going to be a dead man if he told them about it again. 

They came to a crossroads and he slowed down, not sure which way to turn Then Gabrielle moved forward, taking the right path and he sped up so he could walk by her side. But Gabrielle drew her staff, placing it across the path so quickly that he walked into it. 

"Joxer, we part here." Xena's voice was low and softer than usual. 

"Um, yeah. Oh. I see what you mean. Are we splitting up? Going to take someone on two fronts by surprise? Sounds like a good plan. So who goes with me?" 

Gabrielle turned to Xena, ignoring him entirely. "Xena, that's it." She moved the staff and it hit him in the stomach. 

"Ow. What'd I do?" 

"Do? *Do*? You little--" 

"Gabrielle." Xena's voice was hard and firm, but Gabrielle kept talking. 

"--traitor. You two-faced--" 

"Gabrielle, that's enough." Xena put a hand on Gabrielle's arm and Gabrielle stopped yelling. Her cheeks were flushed a bright pink. She kept the staff up in the air and Joxer moved back a few paces. Not that he thought she'd try to fight him, but still... 

"Xena?" 

"Joxer, maybe you'd better go now." 

"But--but why?" 

"We all make our choices, Joxer. You've made yours." Xena shook her head and pulled Gabrielle closer to her. Gabrielle finally dropped her staff and let Joxer pass. It was Ares. They knew about him now and they didn't want him around anymore. No. That wasn't really true. They had never wanted him around. But before they were willing to put up with him. 

Well, fine. If they were going to be that way, he'd just go... Where? He really didn't have anywhere to go. He couldn't go home. He could try to find Hercules, but then this would just happen again as soon as Hercules found out about Ares. And he couldn't even go to Ares. The God of War didn't want him either. 

"I'm sorry..." They were already so far down the path that he spoke to their backs and had to shout his goodbyes. He looked down the other path but didn't know what was left and so he turned back toward the village where at least he could think in comfort. He checked his pockets and found he had enough dinars to drink himself into oblivion at least once more. So much for the no more ale vow. On the way back, maybe he would stop by the altar and leave something for Ares. A pint of ale. Yeah, Ares would *not* find that funny. The God didn't want to see him now, but there was no way to tell if it was permanent. Somehow, he doubted it. Ares had sounded pretty interested in watching him suffer. And, though he could watch from his Temple well enough, Ares seemed to prefer the personal touch. 

* * *

"Another." Joxer set the mug down on the table. 

"Sorry, Joxer. The bar's closed." 

"No is not. I saw you pour that guy a drink jus' now." 

The barmaid shook her head at him and he put his head down on the sticky wood. What did it matter? He'd walked right by the altar on the way into town and had decided that Ares didn't deserve a pint of ale. The joke cost too much. He was just about out of money and he had no place to go and no place to sleep for the night. 

"Ew. Babe, that is, like, *so* disgusting." 

"Wha?" He lifted his head off the table and found himself eye-level with an amazing set of pink-clad breasts. "Aphrodite?" 

"The one and only, loverboy. Hey, up *here*, sweetie." Her hand tipped his chin up and he finally looked up at her face. 

"Hi Aphrodite." He could feel the blush on his cheeks. No matter how many times he saw her, she was always so *there* that he couldn't help feeling a bit turned on by her. And Ares had said she thought he was cute, which made the whole thing that much worse. He didn't want 'Dite. He wanted Ares. He sighed and let his head drop down to the table again, this time resting his forehead on his arms. Aphrodite was right. His forehead was sticking to his wrist. If he wasn't so miserable, even he would be disgusted. 

"You are *such* a mess." 

"Thanks." He didn't lift his head. 

"Aw, feeling sorry for yourself?" 

"Yes." 

"What happened to Joxer the Mighty?" 

"Los' Cause." 

"What?" 

He pulled his head up and glared at her. Her good mood was really grating on his nerves. Why couldn't she just leave him to sulk in peace? He spoke slowly, enunciating his words to compensate for the drink. "Ares told me that I'm a lost cause." He would have told her the whole thing, but it was just too humiliating. 

"Aw, poor baby." She sounded sincere, but he could tell she thought it was funny that he was sitting in a puddle of ale while Ares was off doing God-things. 

"Yeah. S'really funny." After being with Ares for a short time, he'd almost forgotten his apparent function in life. The only thing he was really good at. Comic relief. Well, at least *someone* was happy. He sighed. 

"So, where's the big, bad boy now?" 

"Dunno. Prob'ly out using mortals for target practice." 

"Ouch. And I thought things were peachy with you two. So what did Ar do to screw it up?" 

"Nothing." 

"Aw, c'mon. If you can't tell the Goddess of Love about your lovers spat, who can you tell?" 

He couldn't bring himself to answer. That was the point, exactly. He'd gotten *into* this mess because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. As he'd tried to tell Ares before, he always made new and different mistakes. Performing the same pratfall over and over wasn't funny. The trick of being a really good fool was to find new ways to humiliate yourself. 

"Okay, if *you* won't tell me..." 

Joxer lifted his head at the sudden bright glittery light and blinked hard when he realized that 'Dite had whisked them both out of the bar. Aphrodite giggled when he promptly fell to the floor, the chair he'd been sitting on still back at the bar. Well, at least he was right about one thing. Falling didn't hurt as much when you were drunk. 

He looked around nervously but relaxed when he saw that the large hall of Ares' Temple was empty. The fireplace was lit, so Ares had been here recently, but Joxer noticed that the fire was running low on fuel. He got up off the floor and walked over to the hearth to push a few more logs on, then pulled back suddenly as if he'd burned himself. He'd almost forgotten. This wasn't his home anymore. He wasn't even a guest. If Ares wanted to let the fire burn out, let him. 

"Ares, sweetie? You have exactly two minutes to get your tight butt in that ghoulish little throne of yours before I start redecorating. And this time I swear I'm putting up curtains and painting these morbid walls in pastels." He jumped at the sound of Aphrodite's voice, relaxed again when he realized that she wasn't talking to him, then tensed up again when he listened to her threat. Ares was sure to come and he wasn't going to be pleased about either of them intruding on his Temple, especially if 'Dite got her hands on some pink curtains. She had her hands on her hips and looked as serious as a God could wearing what she was wearing. If he didn't get out of there quick, it was *not* going to be pretty. Joxer headed for the exit. Two minutes might just be enough time to get out. 

"Joxer, where do you think *you're* going?" 

He turned back to face her. It *was* rude to leave without saying goodbye. "I've got, ah, somewhere to be. Thanks, um, for the lift, 'Dite." 

He turned back to the exit and as he reached to open the door, it suddenly swung inward and knocked him off-balance and onto the floor. 

"Joxer?" 

Damn. He looked up at the door, now several feet from where he had landed. "Ares. I--" 

"Come to apologize? Well, I have to admit, I expected as much. But you really don't have to crawl." 

Joxer didn't bother to answer. He just glared at Ares and hoped Ares was reading the pretty violent thoughts he was sending the God's way. He was somehow pretty sure that Ares had known he was on the other side of the door and had thrown him down on purpose. It could have been worse, but still. 

"He's here because I brought him. And if anyone is going to apologize, I'd lay odds it's going to be you." 

"'Dite. Mind your own business." Ares nodded once in the direction of Aphrodite's voice but Joxer noticed that he didn't break eye contact. 

Joxer got up off the floor, somehow still keeping his blurred eyes on Ares. He watched as Ares closed the heavy door behind him. The God walked towards him and for a second Joxer tensed for battle, but then Ares passed him, snubbed him, really, and headed for his throne. Joxer brushed himself off, more to calm himself than because the floor was dirty. Ares' Temple might be morbid and dark, but it was neat. The God of War left the blood and grime of battle outside. 

Joxer walked back to the door and pulled it open, but this time he found himself falling forward when the door swung shut again, the momentum carrying him with it. He managed to stick his palms out and catch himself before his head could impact with the wall. Twice in two minutes was probably setting some kind of record for him. He continued to lean against the wall, trying to decide what he might have done to deserve this day. This wasn't typical Ares-torture. He'd heard what Ares and the Fates had done to Xena. Ares was obviously just warming up, and he wanted to leave before the God really started to enjoy himself. 

He was still pretty drunk, which didn't make it any easier to coordinate everything, but he tried the door again, not really surprised when it wouldn't budge. He had lost even the faintest hope of maintaining a little dignity. The best he could hope for at this point was that he wouldn't have to beg Ares to let him leave. 

Ares waved his hand in the air as if swatting a fly, and Joxer's head cleared. He almost said thank you, but he didn't. He didn't need favors from the God of War. And besides, he didn't really feel all that ready to face the two Gods while sober. One was bad enough. Certainly more than most mortals had to deal with. But two Gods in one room made him nervous. 

He pulled on the door one more time, and this time he could feel it give a little, but there was no way he could pull it open wide enough to slip outside. 

He turned to Aphrodite, hoping maybe she would take pity on him, but she just shook her head and smiled sweetly. "Sorry 'bout that, Joxer. But I can't have you leaving the party so early. We haven't even had dinner yet." Then she turned to glare at Ares, and the smile somehow never left her face, but it stopped looking sweet and started to look really dangerous, because it clashed with her clothes or something. Joxer looked back at Ares again and could almost see the family resemblance. Ares had that same smile on his face, but, with the whole black leather thing, it wasn't as scary. 

Ares spoke to Aphrodite, thankfully ignoring him now."I don't remember inviting you to dinner. And I certainly didn't invite *him*." Joxer watched as Ares walked over to Aphrodite, stopping right behind her in a menacing manner and whispering in her ear. Joxer had to strain to hear the words, "There's something you should know--" before Aphrodite interrupted, not whispering, and Ares stepped back with a shrug. 

"Look, leather-boy. This *is* my business. We are talking Love? Or are you still insisting that this little mortal fixation is just you getting your Divine rocks off?" 

Joxer could actually almost see the fire streaming out of Ares' eyes and targeting 'Dite's head. He had to close his eyes because the tension in the room was making him breathe too quickly, but he couldn't seem to get in enough air. He was afraid he would faint from the stress. 'Dite was still talking, apparently unaffected by Ares' anger. "And I did warn you not to get involved in something you are so obviously clueless about, right? Men are such idiots when it comes to this sort of thing. We really should just neuter the lot of you. So now that you've screwed this whole romance thing up, and still haven't got the brains to come to me for help, you're just lucky I found Joxer in the horrible state you left him in. Crying in his drink." Joxer almost interrupted to argue that he *hadn't* been crying, but it was just too much trouble. "Well, I'm tempted to just leave you both to suffer through your own incompetent wooing, but I feel sorry for this poor shmuck for even getting involved with you. So we're just going to have dinner and you two are going to kiss and make up, and *you*, Ares, are going to sit still and take it like a man." 

Just when Joxer was sure he was about to pass out, Ares spoke up again, and he found the low, angry voice strangely reassuring. "'Dite, this is really not a good time for this." 

"What? Is there a War you have to attend to? If so, run along and take care of it. Joxer and I can wait, can't we honey?" 

Joxer didn't bother to answer. He could tell they were talking to each other now, and he was just the schmuck stuck in the middle of it all. 

Ares opened his mouth to say something but Aphrodite was still talking. "So I guess you're staying then? Cool. Now look, first we have to establish some boundaries. Cause, if you think you can just fool around with Love, you've got another think coming." 

Ares opened his mouth again and still couldn't say anything. It was all almost funny, but Joxer couldn't really find the enthusiasm to laugh when he was still stuck there, waiting for Ares to lose his temper. He was actually kind of impressed that Ares hadn't thrown something at Aphrodite already. But maybe Ares had a thing about fighting with ladies. Even lady Gods. 

"Now, Ar, if I stick a sword in a mortal, I play by your rules, right?" 

Aphrodite finally took a breath and Ares finally managed to interrupt. "'Dite-- I'm warning you. You *don't* want to go there." 

Ares didn't make a move to get up from his throne, but he looked pretty angry. Joxer was amazed at how calmly Aphrodite was regarding Ares, as if she didn't notice the way his expression was darkening, or the way his hands were gripping the arms of the throne. 

"And if you stick your *dagger* in a mortal, you play by *my* rules..." 

Ouch. That was pretty low, even for Aphrodite. Joxer watched, getting interested now. He knew Ares couldn't kill 'Dite, but there were plenty of things he *could* do, and Joxer had a feeling he was going to need to cover his eyes for some of them. 

"'Dite, you--" 

"... mortal or not. Love is love." 

"'Dite, if you would shut up for a minute." 

Aphrodite stopped talking and looked at him with a "What's the problem?" look. 

Ares groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands again. Joxer wondered if maybe he had a headache that he wouldn't admit to. Or maybe he was just so used to being around mortals that he was just starting to act like one. Joxer almost didn't hear what he mumbled and he turned to watch Aphrodite to see if she understood it. "He. Doesn't. *Know*." 

What was he supposed to know? Maybe he had missed something. Or maybe they were just thinking at each other and only saying some of it out loud, so he could hear it. 

"He doesn't--? How can he--Not at all?" 

Ares shook his head and slouched down further in his throne. Joxer noticed that he looked kind of smaller today, less imposing. Aphrodite kept turning her head, looking at Ares, then at him, then back at Ares. Finally, she let out a giggle. 

Well, if they were going to have a conversation without him, there was no point in his staying here, just hearing bits of it that didn't make any sense. They could just work out whatever problem they were having and come torture him when they were done. "Look, I don't know what I'm supposed to know or what the joke is, and I don't even care if it's me. So if you'd just unlock the door, I'll be on my way." 

Aphrodite didn't seem to have heard him. She was facing Ares again. "So, like, 'The God of Lost Causes'...?" 

Ares nodded and sighed. 

"Were you going to tell him anytime soon?" 

Ares scowled and pulled his little knife from the air and started sharpening it. Joxer wondered, suddenly, if it was a different knife each time Ares called it up, or if it was just really, really sharp. Or maybe Ares kept dulling it, sticking it into people. He shuddered. Best to just get out now. Maybe he had been killed and Hades had thrown him back, just like Ares said he would. So now he was like a ghost, not quite dead, not quite alive. It would definitely explain that odd feeling he kept having ever since he left the village, as if something was not really right with the world. He'd thought he was just miserable because he missed Ares and might never see him again, but maybe it was just being a ghost. He shuddered again. At least if he was a ghost, that little knife probably wouldn't hurt. And all he had to do now was leave the Temple, find Hades, and explain that he would be perfectly happy to move on to the Elysian Fields, or Tartarus even. 

"You're not *dead*." Ares' voice was almost a whisper, not angry. Maybe almost amused. Joxer had to look closely to see that there was just the slightest touch of a smile on the God's dark face. It wasn't obvious, but he knew that face now almost as well as he knew his own. 

"I *know* I'm not dead. I'm half-dead." 

"You're not *half-dead*, either." 

A quarter dead? He was never really good at geometry. How many parts of you had to be dead before you were totally dead? Joxer saw the flash of metal in the air just a half-second before he felt it impact. The force of it made him take a step backwards, and he was prepared to fall to his knees when he looked down and saw the hilt of the blade sticking out of his chest. The blade itself appeared to be inside his body. But it was strange, because he couldn't feel it. Well, not so strange, if he was dead. After all, what difference did a little heart wound make to a dead man. 

"Zeus, how many times do I have to say it? You are *not* dead." 

"Undead?" He tried to think of what other things he could be. He'd heard of ghouls and wraiths and other icky things. Most of those happened if you died a violent death and were coming back to get revenge. And he didn't feel very vengeful. He turned to Aphrodite. She was bent over double, and she was sobbing. "Aphrodite? Look. It's okay. I'm not hurt." 

"I--Joxer. Oh, no." She stood up straight and Joxer saw that she wasn't crying. She was laughing. Tears were rolling down her very pink cheeks and her breasts were heaving in a very distracting way beneath the gauzy fabric. Which just reminded him that there was a knife still stuck in his own chest. Ick. He knew he should pull it out, but it seemed so... gross. 

"Come here, Joxer." 

Yeah, right. Ares was the one who put it there. He wasn't stupid. Ares could fill him up like a pincushion, but he was not going to get any closer than this. Let's see how good Ares' aim was. 

"I said, get over here. Now." 

It was the voice that did it. He knew Ares was just going to hurt him, but it was the same tone Ares used when he was ordering Joxer to bed, and he walked over to the throne on automatic, thinking he should hold back so that Ares would say it again. He always sounded really sexy when he said it a third time. He stopped at the foot of the raised platform and then stepped up so he wouldn't have to look up to see Ares, eye to eye. Ares sat up straight, reached toward him, planted one hand on Joxer's chest, and with the other, grabbed hold of the hilt. The blade made a quiet snick sound as it slid from his body, and Joxer looked at it, amazed. The blade was clean. Even if he was un-dead, he kind of expected to see some blood. 

Ares looked over Joxer's shoulder at Aphrodite. "Goodnight, Aphrodite." 

"Oh, c'mon. Can't I have a little fun?" 

"Please." 

Joxer had never heard Ares say please before. He was still really confused, but it was nice to hear the Gods be polite for once. 

"Oh, all right. But you owe me dinner and all the juicy details. And Ares? Be nice." She sighed and muttered, "How come *I* always have to miss the make-up sex?" 

Ares grunted and Joxer kind of had to agree with him. Make-up sex was unlikely. He was going to be lucky if he didn't get kicked back to Hades the hard way after 'Dite left. *If* she ever left. 

With a frown that made little lines appear on her pretty face, 'Dite finally disappeared, leaving a sweet-scented cloud of gold air and rose petals in her wake. Joxer inhaled, happy that he could still smell. Dead or not, at least he still had most of his senses. 

"Joxer, don't kid yourself. You have no sense at all. Now get up here." Ares patted his knee. 

This was obviously some kind of trap. 

"It's not a trap. I won't bite unless you ask nicely." 

"So you're not mad at me anymore?" He whispered it, not feeling as confident now that he was alone with Ares. Now there were no witnesses. Just a pebble, a large hill, and infinity. 

"I decided against the pebble and the hill. Found out it's been done already." 

So there must be a catch here. Ares had thought of some new torture. Something original and horrifying. Maybe he'd just go with the tongue removal. Would his tongue make that same snick sound as it came out of his mouth? 

"You have a morbid imagination and I have better uses for that tongue." 

Suddenly, Joxer's mind was filled with a very vivid image of himself kneeling before the God of War. They were both naked and he was using his tongue to trace a path up and down the God's cock, watching as it hardened beneath his touch. He heard himself groan out loud. Out loud? 

"Gods don't ask twice." 

Where was that voice coming from? It sounded like Ares, but he could see that Ares' mouth wasn't speaking. In fact, the God was licking his lips in a very suggestive way that said something else entirely. 

The image changed, and now he could see himself straddling Ares' lap on the throne, lowering himself onto the God's erection. Ares' head was tipped back, exposing his throat and Joxer's hands were resting on Ares' shoulders for balance. 

It was strange. Somehow it didn't look like one of his fantasies. He was sort of glowing, sort of almost kind of handsome. 

"Listen. Look." 

Joxer heard the order and listened. And looked. He wasn't sure where he was supposed to look, so he looked into Ares' eyes. At first, there was nothing but the dark black of them and the sound of both of them breathing a bit fast. But then he was falling into them, losing his balance and getting dizzy so that he gripped Ares' vest, holding on so tight his hands hurt. And then suddenly it was clear. He was inside Ares' mind, and the images flashed before him so fast he could barely sort through them. He could see whole areas shrouded in darkness, but there was one well-lit area and he moved toward it. 

He'd always thought that when Ares read his mind, it was like reading a scroll. Words scribbled on parchment. But there was no parchment here and no words. Just...thoughts. And it was no purer than language. He found that he still had to check, asking questions of Ares without words, answering thought with thought. Finally, he pulled back and the world was normal again. But it was never going to be normal again. He cleared his throat. It took a second before he was sure he still remembered how to speak. 

"I'm...immortal?" 

"Yes." 

"When? I mean, I thought it was complicated?" 

"It is...if you follow the rules." 

"And you didn't?" 

Ares' expression seemed to mock the very idea of rules. 

Joxer cleared his throat, trying not to get distracted by that smile. "Um, aren't you going to get in trouble over this?" 

"Joxer, I *am* trouble." 

Oh. Well that was a good point. Who was going to argue with Ares? "So you stole the, um, apples?" He wasn't sure if stole was the right word. The apples belonged to the Gods, after all. 

"Not the apples." 

Not the apples? What else was there? "Then what--" 

"Ambrosia." 

"But ambrosia makes you a..." He couldn't say it. It just *couldn't* be true. He'd know it if he was a...one of those. Wouldn't he? 

"Well, I kind of assumed that you would. Most Gods do." 

"Most--" 

"But then, you're not like most Gods." 

"Most--I'm a--r-right now?" 

"Since after your little, ah, indiscretion." Ares said it so casually. How could he say that casually? Last night he'd been livid. Talking about pebbles and hills...eternal punishments...eternal--He suddenly remembered what Ares had said before he left him at the inn. 

"The God of Lost Causes?" 

"Yes." Ares nodded and Joxer realized that he wasn't even sure if he'd said it out loud or just thought it. 

"The God of Lost Causes?" He said it again, this time hearing the words as they filled the air and echoed off the Temple walls and back to him. "I--Th-that wasn't, um, a joke?" It had to be a joke. Ares wouldn't...would he? He looked at the God of War and remembered that Ares tended to act before thinking. Impulsive. But this was ridiculous. "*Lost* *Causes*???" 

"It seemed appropriate... at the time." Ares shrugged, looking almost apologetic. But Gods didn't apologize. Or cuddle. Or die. Oh! 

"So...I'm a G-G-God?" 

"Yes. You're a G-G-God." Now Ares was smirking at him. 

A God? Joxer the God? Part of him was still sure this had to be a joke. And not a very funny one. There was no God of Lost Causes. If he was going to be a God, wouldn't he be something useful? Lost causes were, well, lost. Hopeless. What would the God of Lost Causes *do*? 

The image returned. This time it was highly detailed. There were candles lit throughout the room. The throne was replaced by the same ornate bed that he'd first slept in with Ares, the black and red silks bright and more vivid than seemed possible. Joxer turned around and saw that behind him, in front of the hearth, the bed was actually there. He tried to decide if the colors were as colorful on the real bed but he was too stunned by the fact that on the other bed, in his head--or was it in Ares' head?--he was naked and making love to the God of War. 

"So *that's* what the God of Lost Causes does?" There had to be something else, but suddenly he couldn't be bothered to think about it. The bed, and that *smile* on the God's--he was going to have to stop thinking like that, wasn't he? Now that he was a God too?--on Ares' face. The most dangerous, foreboding smile Joxer had ever seen. He felt his breathing speed up again and he was getting light-headed again, and that was good, at least. Reassuring. At least he was breathing, still. 

Joxer smiled back in response. "Are you sure? I really am--" 

Ares sighed and rolled his eyes. "Totally." 

"But this-- Is this a secret, too?" 

"That's entirely up to you." 

Entirely up to him? Nothing had ever been entirely up to him before. The responsibility took his breath away. "So. Um. Wow. This God thing. It's like, forever, then? I mean, it's unreversible?" 

"*Ir*reversible. Permanent." 

Irreversible. Permanent. Joxer realized that he didn't really know what the words meant. So far beyond the long view that he wondered if he would ever understand them. And then he knew. He *had* forever to understand them. Forever. "And if you get tired of me, you can't, um. Well." He didn't know how to say it. There were ways to kill another God, he was sure of it. 

"I won't get rid of you. A God is not allowed to kill another God." 

Ares admitted that he didn't *do* rules. So that didn't really reassure him, much. Besides, Ares seemed to take that thing kind of lightly when it came to Hercules. 

"My *brother* is another matter. Besides, *you* might get tired of me. Forever is a long time, Joxer." 

Maybe it was. Joxer wasn't so sure of that, now that he was really looking at it... facing it. After all, forever was just a bunch of moments all lined up. A whole series of nights. An infinite number of times he could take Ares and Ares could take him. Which brought him back to that smile, that promise. "Forget about forever. I want you. Now." 

"Patience, my little God. You have forever." 

Little God. He wasn't sure that was much better than little mortal. Joxer felt himself tingling all over, thinking about what he wanted, about that image of himself, not just in Ares' body, but in his mind, surrounded by him. "You *know* I want you. Now, Ares. I can't wait for forever." 

"Now, then." Ares waved his hand and Joxer felt the warm air stirring against his now bare skin. 

Joxer chewed on his lower lip for a second, trying to figure out the trick. Then he nodded. And Ares sat before him, naked, beautiful (yes, that was just a mortal word, but he had decided that all words were mortal words, and they were just fine, and beautiful was just *right* somehow), perfect, and definitely very excited. 

But there were still questions, and, at the risk of annoying Ares, he really had to know. "So why'd you do this?" 

"What?" 

"*This*." How many things had Ares done today, anyway? 

"Oh, *that*. Love?" Ares grinned as he said it, his voice, if not his expression, mocking the very idea that he would do anything for love. Joxer played along, knowing that wasn't the reason, but still wanting to believe that maybe love was part of it, anyway. 

"Yeah. Right. Really, I want to know." He knew that he was doing it again. Ares was naked, sitting before him, already aroused and ready for him. But he wasn't naked enough. Joxer wanted him bare, stripped to the core. He wanted to know. Everything. But it wasn't like removing Ares' clothes, and he wasn't sure that being a God would give him what he wanted most. 

"You don't worship me anymore." 

Ares ran a hand over his bare chest and Joxer watched, almost hypnotized, as that hand drifted down to stroke his cock. Joxer wasn't sure if Ares *knew* how hard it was to think of anything else, to think about prayer when part of him was arguing in favor of kneeling at Ares' throne and worshipping his cock. But he persisted, forcing himself to look at the God's face, only to be confused again by the sensual way that Ares licked his lips. 

"S-so. What's the difference? Lots of people don't. Lots of people don't even pretend to pray. Gabby, um, she told me there are atheists..." 

Ares shuddered dramatically. "Insane people. I'd kill them, but Hades insists that most of them change their minds a few seconds before they die. Not that it matters." 

"It's the principle of the thing." 

"Exactly." Ares said as he wrapped his hand over his cock, thumbing the head and moaning at his own touch. 

Joxer felt his knees grow weak and forced himself to look again at Ares' face, noticing that Ares' eyes were closed. 

"So you haven't answered my question." 

Ares opened his eyes and blinked at him, looking as innocent as Ares could. "I haven't?" 

"Nope. Why'd you do it?" 

"Because. I. Can. Now can we shut up and fuck?" 

"Talk dirty to me." Joxer knew it was a very poor imitation of Ares, but Ares laughed appreciatively. Because I can was a pretty lame reason for doing things. Ares could do anything he wanted to do. The question was why he did some things instead of other things. And why this? Why now? It didn't make sense. 

"Joxer, God of Lost Causes. You're still thinking too much." Ares smiled as he said it and added, as a after-thought, "Oh, and sorry about that. I could probably come up with something else if you really hate it." 

So Gods *did* apologize. But only to other Gods. Well, that made sense, anyway . "Nah. I think I like it." 

"You do?" Ares sounded wary and it was all Joxer could do to blank his mind before saying it. 

"Yeah. See, if I'm the God of Lost Causes...you can be my first project. I mean, why not start with the really tough cases first? Kind of make my reputation with you." 

Ares growled and the Temple shook but Joxer stood his ground, letting his arms slide around Ares, nearly sitting on his lap. 

"Temper, temper... Ares. I think we should start with that." 

"Oh, really? Just try me." 

Joxer looked down at the bronze body before him. Ares' cock was hard and almost purple. Like the God himself, dangerous and desirable. 

Joxer whispered, his breath caught somewhere in his throat. "I think I will. Um, but you still haven't told me. How *do* Gods make love?" 

"Anyway they want to, Joxer." 

"Anyway *we* want to," Joxer repeated, getting used to the idea. "Any fucking way we want!" He said again, almost whispering it while bringing his his hand down to stroke the length of Ares' desire, measuring it, weighing it in his palm. 

And Ares tipped his head back and laughed.

—FIN—

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, to my friend and beta reader Dyevka, who read this  
> story more times than either one of us wants to recall. Any remaining mistakes  
> are, of course, my own. 
> 
> © August 24, 1998


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